At roughly 6:30 PM EST this evening, we will embark on what should be nothing short of a legendary cross-country trek in search of dry-fly eating trout. I say bring it on... bring on the summer haze shimmering over the interstate. Bring on sunrise over the great plains and sunset over the Big Horns. Bring on America at its best; 3,000 miles of open roads, pristine rivers and forests, unrestricted exploration. And bring on America at it's worst - crowded truck stops full of fat, lazy, loud-mouthed families lining up for double cheeseburgers and Big Gulps, overprocessed pseudo-foods and high-fructose energy drinks. Bring on two-tracks and dust-clouds and boiling anticipation. Bring on 6-inch circus seals nosing dry flies out of the water. Bring on thug brownies and gangsta' lean hopper eats. Bring on spots and slashes and white-tipped fins. Bring on the foam. Bring on pocket water and undercut banks and log jams and lost flies. Bring on the slow take. Bring on cold nights and hot days. Bring on the Goat Shack and the Big Mike Burger. Bring on warm PBR and cold Tire. Bring on sore quads and calves, sunburns and casting blisters. Bring on another years worth of stories and a new batch of pictures for the man cave.
Are we there yet?
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