were the chances that three hours later the fly rod would
still be there? On a busy highway. Next to a body of
water holding trout? In an area filled with people trout
fishing, their cars parked helter skelter at every
highway turnout? Slim, but while odds can approach zero,
they can never actually be zero. If I didnt return
to the scene, I might
"I should be thankful that I have only lost a fishing pole at this point, the halfway point. (True, I did almost lose the dog.) I am not prone to losing things. My wallet is about 20 years old, and, of course, looks it. "
possibly miss out on an act of human kindness and I wanted to be someone who believed in goodness of the human spirit. Someone could have found my rod, leaving a note attached to the sign post indicating that the fly rod was in good hands and how to get it back. That is what I would have done, I told myself. But alas, the odds nearing zero had proved inescapable. It was gone. I drove back to my camp and had spaghetti. Read and went to bed.
I should be thankful that I have only lost a fishing pole at this point, the halfway point. (True, I did almost lose the dog.) I am not prone to losing things. My wallet is about 20 years old, and, of course, looks it. I havent lost a pair of sunglasses in two years. Traveling is when I lose stuff. Things go in and out of the van all the time. Unpack. Pack up. Countless times. My steadfast rule of always walking around the van once before departing would have discovered my fly rod, but I didnt think the rule applied in this case.
|Police Log from the High Country
Independent Press. July 14-21
- Lisaa L Chhovic was fined $1 for jaywalking
No Rush anywhere in the mountains. Hardly any radio at all.
So, I continue on. Sans fly rod. (Any fishing pole manufactures out there who would like me to field test one of their fly rods for a public audience?) Ill check a few pawnshops in Butte. As far as fly rods go, it was hardly exquisite, but in my hands it felt plenty great.
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