I’m a planner. I’d probably tell you that I like the spontaneous and unplanned, but that’s not entirely true. As I sit here, a week out from bonefish in the islands, I’m deep in planning mode. I’ve just wrapped up a list of everything that needs to go in the gear bag. I’ll probably address the other less important things, the toiletries and non-fishing clothing, the night before we leave, but I have the essentials nearly ready a week out. There is one more reel to be spooled, a few more flies to be tied, and a final sorting out of leader and tippet to be addressed. Of course, I’ll probably unpack and repack a handful of times just to be sure.
Will we find tailing fish? Will I get a shot at a few big, cruising singles? A barracuda, maybe? Hopefully? Should probably bring a few wire leaders just in case.
Tom Petty sang that the waiting is the hardest part, and I think I remember reading somewhere that he wrote that song about the anticipation of waiting to get on stage before a gig. I suppose one aspect of being a planner is that the waiting, the anticipation, isn’t so bad.
Nah, that’s bullshit. The waiting sucks.
Already checked out,