Revive - A Quarterly Fly Fishing Journal (Volume 1. Issue 1 summer 2013) | Page 73

By this time the tone of the day is set and I have resided to the fact that I will not become best friends with the Belizean guide that controls my fishing fate for the next 8 hours.

“Good. Dude man is focused and hes gonna put me on ‘em. Ill be wearing out de bones.” I’m thinking.

We ride on as the light begins to crest the few skyrises and the life of the shallow water lagoon appears. I am in a moment of nirvana until he did it. He asked.

“You don’t normally fish for trout...do you?”

Busted.

To this point the calm and collected complexion of a stoic guide shatters and a smile creeps over his mocha skin.

“This will be a long day”…

The time comes for us to embark on the wading portion of our little adventure and the excitement and anxiety creeps into my casting shoulder and hand like a stomach ache brought on by a night of too many Belikin. Dude man looks skeptical as a series of the absolute worst double hauls ever performed in the northern hemisphere takes place. Head shakes in disgust and blatant contempt.