that I admitted to my addiction.
I am a fly fisher.
Admission is supposed to make you feel better. They say that admitting it is the first step on the road to recovery but I kinda like the disease.
I live in a little town in Southern Ontario just a few miles from the Grand River. My avatar on my posts makes reference to "eclectic flyfisher" that pretty well sums up my approach to this business. I'll fish for pretty well anything with scales and I've even caught a few things that don't have any (BIG snapping turtles, crabs, clams, etc.) It doesn't matter if the stream is only a rod-length wide, a river that's 100s of yards across, a pond, a lake, an ocean; they're all fun for me.
OK, I'll come clean, I've even caught carp on a fly rod - deliberately! [I feel better now that I've admitted that.] I've even been known to stand on a decrepit dock in my spiffy work duds, throwing poppers on a 2 wt. to itty-bitty sunfish. Anyway, my addiction took a turn for the worse about five years ago when I acquired my first spey rod. I hate to admit it but it's been downhill ever since. Hell, I don't even lust to catch fish with it anymore - casting it is enough. Remember the old commercial? "This is your brain. This is your brain when using a spey rod." Sizzle.
I've been told there's no hope for me.