Tumbling clear waters. A patchwork of boulders and gravel bottoms. White chutes that open up into deep green foamy pools. The beautiful pulsating surround-sound of cicadas that seems to last till eternity. The delicate take of a trout as it slowly sips a dry fly. Sun rays struggling to break through the thick canopy of the mountain forest. These are all the memories I desperately try to re-create over and over again every time I visit a trout…
