So fly.

Living in the Northwoods, there's a few outdoorsy things that I feel like you're kind of required to at least try while you're up here. They include:

* Cross-county skiing

* Kayaking/canoeing

* Fly fishing

I've lived up here off and on for the past ten years and I've really only done one of those things (you should know me well enough by know to just automatically know it wasn't cross-country skiing). So last week I was pretty damn excited to learn how to fly fish for the first time.

Here was my vision of fly fishing - wading out into the open water, repeatedly casting my line ala Brad Pitt in A River Runs Through It, the sun shining on my shoulders as I recited poetry in my head...maybe a bear would amble out of the shore line and just nod his head at me, like, "Yes, Amber...yes. You are one with nature. You are us."

I even had this whole imagery of what my outfit should look like. In my head, it looked something like this:


Or even like this: 
Y'know...sporty, northwoodsy, but also mainly cute. 
Yeah. I did not get to look like any of that. (I did, however, have the luck of coordinating the color of my shirt with my (borrowed) waders. I know you guys might think this is stupid, but if I have to be out of my comfort zone, I want to at least look good while I'm failing miserably at something)
Also, apparently fly fishing requires hiking through dense wooded brush while carefully maneuvering a really long pole (I asked my companion, "Is this what guys feel like?" He replied, "It's what I feel like." And then I laughed and then a branch hit my face). It also requires climbing through rocky river beds, which is really hard to do when A. the rocks are slippery B. said rocks are also underwater, so they're hard to see B. you're wearing boots that are a little bit too big for you. So I wasn't going to impress anyone with my grace that day, but at least I didn't fall and give myself a concussion and almost drown like that last time I was in a river. 
Learning the casting was a bit tricky, but I'm proud to say that I didn't tear anyone's eye out with my hook/fly. After a while I got the hang of it, and that's when I started to understand why fly fishing is so addictive...the rhythm of it is really soothing, almost meditative. Standing in the middle of the river, the sun on my shoulders, casting out my line...no bears appeared on the river bank to tell me that I was one with them now, but it was still pretty okay. 
We packed up and headed to another spot, and this is when it turned into probably one of the most amazing afternoons I've ever had. The river was rocky, which made for some tricky footing, but I got to practice casting out and then reeling in when I felt a bite (I had lots of bites but no catches, which I was totally okay with...it was enough just to practice). Standing in the middle of this rushing river with the bright green forest on both sides of the bank during one of the most glorious sunny summer days one could ask for...it was pretty damn fantastic. Later we took a break and climbed onto a huge rock in the middle of the river, opened up a couple of Canoe Paddlers, and I pretty much could have stayed there for the rest of my life. 
So yeah...definitely down for going again (and again. And probably again after that). I'm probably going to invest in a pair of my own waders, though.  Some really cute ones, obviously. 
I'll probably forego the bikini top, though. That just kind of feels like tempting fate.