I'm ready. It's time. There's dirt in my boots, the result of my brothers crazy sense of humor. I got up this morning, drank my coffee and ate three tasteless eggs with toast. That's the end of the butter, so I guess it's cereal and boiled tasteless eggs tomorrow. I went to work and stripped four decks before the rain and thunder, and the fear of walking on a rain-slicked shake roof made me stop for the day. I drove north, bought some ice cream at DQ and took it to my brother. He's sweat soaked, wearing a fedora, talking jovially with a neighbor while the excavator sits idling, waiting for them to finish. He's covered in sand. It's later, while shoveling sand away from the foundation of the new home he's building, that he throws a scoop of sand down each of my boots, to remind me that he's my little brother, that he's always going to pick on me, get me to laugh or fight him. I laugh this time.
My attitude has jaundiced seriously, it happens every summer that I work this hard. I'm ready. Ready to sort it out, pack it up, load the truck and point it north. I'm ready to go bamboo, as Bourdain likes to say, disappear into the bush, not tell anyone where I'm going, vanish. I want to forget that there's internet, email, Facebook, faxing, chat, or texting. I want to forget I even have a blog. I hope my iPhone doesn't work where I'm going. When you reach the point where all your local waters seem mundane it's time to go.
Today wasn't completely without it's redeeming moments- the little girl playing in the sand two feet from the back hoe, the skein of geese passing 30 feet overhead, a test flight before the fall. The ice cream. But I feel deep inside this need, to go Away. To see something new, fish some new waters. I want to get bitten by different bugs.
I have two and a half weeks to get this job done, sort my gear, and tie a pile of streamers. I need to order another rod, some wading boots and some waders. We need to line up a boat and make sure all the service is done on the truck. Then, my other brother and I are headed to Nipigon. Google it. No you can't come. My brother- let's just call him Sam, is ten years younger than me, 4 inches taller, strong as an ox, and fearless. He'll be a great traveling companion. He's just learning to fly fish.
We're going to pack too much stuff, buy too much food and spend too much money. We might catch fish. I'm going to take my vise and not use it. The kayak definitely goes. I'm taking three 8 gig cards for the camera. We'll focus on the Nipigon river for giant brook trout, fish measured in pounds, not inches. I'll also poke around for big pike and muskie, and explore some other rivers for trout. I want to see my friend Al in Thunder Bay, then go see the Sleeping Giant.