As it creeps up on 1am, we reluctantly drain beers and each say our goodbyes. Not just handshakes, but embraces, a common occurence on fishing trips where kinships among strangers form faster than they do in the regular world. But there’s a current of guilt running through the small group of us that are headed out early in the morning for a daylong pilgrimage to the Blanco River.
Pasture-raised trout
by Chad Shmukler - Monday, Feb 8th, 2021