It was a hot, early summer day in May and I was standing in the Davidson River near Brevard, North Carolina. I was trying my best to look like I knew what I was doing. I was casting over a pod of trout that you could easily call “monsters” by anyone's standards and in the clear, cold water I swear I could see the biggest one in the back of the pod smiling at me. He wore a sort of fishy smirk, like he knew I didn't have a shot at tempting him or any of his buddies into biting.
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