[HairOfTheDog]

I'd say he'd be about as much an expert on marine life as I've ever met (haven't met that many). I was a boy then (about 30 years ago) so I couldn't tell much, but my dad always considered him a great expert on such things.

Sounds like it... I am glad it happened to him!

...Poets talk about "spots of time," but it is really fishermen who experience eternity compressed into a moment. No one can tell what a spot of time is until suddenly the whole world is a fish and the fish is gone. I shall remember that son of a bitch forever...

... Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.

Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

~A River Runs through it...Norman Maclean

[Sam Cree]

Those are great quotes, Hair, should I read the book?

Good night, again, not sure why I am still up. So the breeze died down?

[Scott from the Left Coast]

You can never precisely know the moment that a fish hits the line (maybe especially the native cutthroat). The adrenaline surge masks it, and you can never remember it precisely afterward. One moment all is calm and the next moment you know it has been tugging and you are trying to, cautiously, set the hook. But that moment is lost to your memory.

Eternity compressed into a moment. The spot of time that escapes you.