In many ways, this writing project is about restoring or finding hope. I won't deny that I'm hopeful that somehow the universe will guide a few lost souls here and that a few of those will actually take some time out of their lives to do a bit of reading. This is hope in its purest, mythical form. Perhaps even delusion. Not only that, I find myself crossing a line: I'm planning to offer advice. As if The InterCloud isn't already awash in beneficial information about fly fishing, I'm hoping to contribute something of value. When I analyze the idea of offering advice, a few things cross my mind.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
|A first-class view from five miles high|
Without exaggeration, I’ve spent thousands of hours on commercial aircraft in the past 18 years. When I know I’ll be flying at dawn or dusk, I make every effort to select a window seat. Seeing the entire visible spectrum flow from horizon to zenith as the sun warms the east is an emotional wellspring. The view from 30,000 feet is one of deep indigo, neon pink, and soothing orange. I’ve always considered it a privilege to have this eastern spectacle unfold on an AM southbound flight segment.
This previous Thursday, I went west. I found the evening sun suspended many degrees above the horizon as we gradually pushed above the cloud layer, with the eye-catching yellows and oranges fighting for their ephemeral moment. I connected my phone to the plane’s WiFi network and sent my status into the Twittersphere:
Currently chasing the sun…