In which our intrepid correspondent, a prodigal pink Vermonter, readjusts to life in the east after roaming the Rocky Mountain wilderness, fly rod in hand, for a couple of decades.
Blue: adj: The color some extremities turn when subjected to extreme, prolonged cold.
A born and bred Green Mountain boy, Pink began his angling evolution tromping through the streams of Vermont, armed with earthworms and Chuck Taylor “wading boots”, stalking 10 inch brook trout. As a young “adult”, he migrated to the Rocky Mountains, where he acquired his nickname, guiding rivers, and patrolling the snow in the high-altitude sun, for two decades. Now, back in the motherland, fly-fishing is his technique of choice, but he is not averse to diversifying, embracing his credo of “hope and change”, as he travels New England, and sometimes the world, chronicling his adventures of self-satisfaction.
Now we all know what Pinky is up to! Is anyone surprised?! Good on him and you, Hayden, for posting this well written blog.
Oh my heart….thanks River Goddess!
Love, Pink
We all know Jera could not catch anything over 10 inches out here either. Ha! Ha! Right Buddha.
Hey Jera-
You showed ’em how it’s done this past week at Parsons.
You caught some nice big blues and more stripers than anybody who was wetting a line.
Give that dog a tranquillizer will you my friend lol
So glad u r teachin your cronies to eat their catch! Ya’ll don’t wanna end up in the same heaven as your catch n release friends otherwise,eh? Luv ya…
“Friends”, meaning the fish of course….