Left Penns with no regrets,
Driving like a maniac on Rt45, zipping trough the sleeping streets of Bellefonte, stopped on the first pool on the Spring Creek. The water was already assuredly boiling from the happy rising trout and air astir from the flying sulphurs. It was ~8PM Sunday. The day was nice but I was very late.
"#OOPS# me" as Debra from the Dexter series would say.
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At the beginning, all of my offerings was refused until I tied on #16 Cahill.
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Rise stopped like Ravel’s Bolero living me with open mouth, standing in the water, not exactly sure what to do next.