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I climb back up the bank and look for calmer waters downstream. It is still early and the warmth of the sun is just starting to intensify. The air is brisk and the water flowing past is serene. I see only one other angler on the opposite side a ways down the stream.
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My friend calls me and I can see him up river on top of the bridge and plan to head down stream towards the old railway bridge. He's got some insight that the fish might be there.
There's a nice flat rock area that is funneling the river. There's a few anglers in the water upstream from where we are and few fishing off the next rapid. We settle into this idealistic scene and the time flies. I am certain I've gotten a few bites. I am excited and deflated in a matter of moments. I try and set the hook right away only to have it pop up. I try to wait it out and sit with 'something' pulilng my line for 10 mins before the hook pops out. It is most likely the underwater currents messing with my now fragile desperation to catch a Steelhead.
After getting so hung up on a snag and 7 hours in now, the worst happens. I snapped my new fly rod. It is a frightening moment standing so close to the edge. The sound of the rod shattering makes me duck and I almost fall in. It is so loud of a noise that others upstream hear it. I can only describe it as someone throwing a metal tube at brick wall.
My day is done. I feel like a complete failure. What a crazy day 'at the office'. My drive home is solemn and I rethink my life.
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