I’m in a jam of my own making.
Cold water sprints past just below my knees in a stream coursing by within a solid 1-wood of my front porch. I struggle to keep my water-logged Converse sneakers firmly planted on the slick river rocks underfoot.
Meanwhile, a rat’s nest of fishing line rests in my hand.
I’m in this pickle because of a clumsy attempt at keeping my fly out of a limb flush with Autumn leaves reaching over the stream’s edge. I panicked and jerked my backcast. Now this jumbled ball of frustration stands between me and another afternoon fishing that ends in a “shutout.”
There’s an easy solution – an easy “out,” of course.
I can just cut the line.
But I don’t.
Having arrived in this exact same position a thousand times before has taught me that patience and a couple of well-placed tugs will untangle this unruly mess
Instead, I hold the hopelessly tangled bundle in my hand and start gently teasing at the knotted mess.
The knots in my leader yield, and I get back to letting the fish…
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