In much of rural America, the town dump remains the great equalizer. Sometimes known as the more sanitary sounding “transfer station,” it’s the place that virtually everyone has to visit, whether poor, well-off, or otherwise. It’s where the lawyer, plumber, and grandmother co-mingle like aluminum, glass, and plastic. They stand side by side and heave bags of trash while catching up on high school sports, the weather, or maybe some local gossip.

As anglers, we all know that fishing truisms like leaky waders, wind knots, and blown fish can gnaw at us between casts. But sometimes, a yang of brilliant light shines down to counteract yin’s dark energy.

The unofficial kick-off to “Bug Week” in the Catskills came in hot, and I don’t mean the fishing. Air temperatures soared to the mid-to-upper 80s, while river temps, at least away from the direct influence of the tailwaters, eventually nudged into the low 70s, virtually shutting down miles of otherwise prime trout water.

God it was ugly.

An ancient fiberglass fly rod leaned awkwardly in the forgotten corner of a vintage/junk shop. It looked like a seven-footer; clearly home-built by someone either just learning their craft or perhaps giving up on it. Uneven wraps and too few guides clung to a rust-colored blank. A dozen grimy cork rings had started to unglue, losing their battle to stay unified as a grip.

Sometimes we find ourselves in strange places, and without a fly rod.

Like the Panama Canal. Surrounded by tarpon.

It was a work trip and an important one. The 19^th conference of the parties of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES CoP19) gathered in Panama to decide the fate of hundreds of wildlife species threatened by trade – everything from African elephants to tiny glass frogs.