RE:'scuse me while I fish the Sky
Why I'll bet the crocuses have already pushed their way up and the buds are starting to impart their sweet spring scent into the valley air. The river's running crisp as you mention, and one never knows what manner of beast could be laying in the next pool. And beasts they are, trout manifest as fierce world travelers and tarpon-like leapers, so distant from their subtle creek brethren sipping midges yet so much the personification of all their potential wrapped up in a spring creek angler's wet dream. Each one a trophy the likes of which many lifelong anglers never experience, offered to those who follow the way of the steelhead - head-shaven dedication and countless hours with the mantras of the valleys, towering conifers and jagged peaks tumbling through the minds as muscle memory applies tension on a fly and dances it's hackles in the heart of a tailout, and the motions become like breathing, subconscious, stepping and sculting the current seams with the mends in the line and >THwOnk<! Zhreeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!! sploOSH! Crash!
Too bad the hook pulled (twice). The narcotic part for me is when you get to soak in the visual magnificence of the beast just before release. Heck it's only still mid-March!