I've got a serious case of trout withdrawal.
When you're a trout junkie like me and haven't really been in a place to find them since mid-May, well, it does something to your state of mind. It's unsettling, I'm off-kilter. I think I've got a case of the shakes.
Doesn't matter much that you live in Florida, home to endless saltwater and freshwater fishing opportunities. Those waters are devoid of trout. I could be called a species snob, but it's not necessarily the fish I'm after, it's the surroundings, the therapeutic experience. It kept me balanced. What I do know is that a handful of opportunities a year isn't going to work.
Social media doesn't provide much of an escape. When you curate your "friends" and "follows" around your primary interest, the constant flow of brookies, browns, & rainbows swimming in the virtual photo stream quickly goes from gratifying to grating. Like? Love? Retweet? Ugh...
It's definitely worse this year than the prior three. I don't handle cold turkey well. Has Pennsylvania been three years already? Wow. Can't believe it.
For now, a long Smoky Mountain weekend in October is the light at the end of the tunnel. Although pinning so much hope on a few short days of potential probably isn't the best recipe for true satisfaction. As easily as Mother Nature can giveth, she can also taketh away.
In the meantime, I guess there's football, family, & the possibility of flood tide tailers. The latter could be a decent distraction, the highlight of many an angler's year, although consistently locating them is still a missing ingredient in my salt marsh recipe. I'm not seeking challenge, I'm seeking comfort.
While I do mean to vent, I'm not looking for your sympathy or consolation. My overall quality of life is good. I'm just confused, existing in an odd state of fishing purgatory. It's even become hard to write this blog. I've been doing this for at least a quarter of my life, it's been such a long time since I haven't. Something is missing and I know it's not going to be found anytime soon.
Change is hard. Living five hours from a good trout stream is even harder.