100513

The spirit of adventure is alive and well in my soul these days. A part of me always gets excited this time of year as I look at new gear for next year only to realize that I wish I had one of those on some journey of old. This usually takes me to that spot in my head where I am reminded of the fact that it is the journeys of  old that keep me looking to the road ahead. The gear is great and makes life on the water more enjoyable and fun, but its the feeling that comes with looking around the next bend, over the next hill, at the next run, or at that fish rising just out of reach that keeps me up at night and causes endless hours of watching airfares and plotting excuses for a getaway.
I wonder what life would have looked like with lightweight, packable rain jacket one of those days on the Oreti. I wish that I had an H2 that last day in the wind on the Ahuiriuri. Waders that didn't leak through the zipper would have been nice that day on Larry's Creek. A couple extra spools of 4x and some Shimazaki would have been nice on any of those trips to NZ. One of those umpqua fanny packs would have been good on any of those trips too.
Why is it always New Zealand that haunts me? Why can't I be haunted by Permit, Tarpon, Carp or even just rising fish on the MO or the East Gallatin for God's sake? It always comes back to Kiwiville…always. 2015…done.