As I wrote in “Little Black Shit”, I don’t tie flies. I need it said up here again for the end of this to make sense.
I was back in California and heading north from San Francisco to fish Hat Creek and/or the Fall River as I wanted to do some dry fly fishing. On the way, I reached out to my friend, Max Fink, and told him of my plans. He paused for a moment then said, “Dude, don’t be an idiot. Go to the Pit. And get a wading staff if you don’t have one.”