The drive up-canyon, with a big goofy grin on you face.

The amazement that you remember how to tie a knot, or even how to cast at all.

The resignation when an errant cast reminds you that you didn't fish all winter.

The quiet gurgling sounds of a spring creek, the wind coming down canyon, and the splash of a fish rising.

The perfect cast, and a solid take. Feeling that you have this fishing thing figured out.

The nymph snagging your pants when you are clearing some river gunk from your line. Three times. Maybe you don't have anything figured out at all.

The ache of legs unused to time in the river, clambering on the bank, or just standing for hours.

The ignorance of when you last ate or drank anything.

The joy of a fish in hand.

The resignation when it is time to go. Darkness and responsibilities creep up quickly... but there is time for one more cast.

The contentment and fatigue of the drive home.