It is late November and too dark to re-tie a new fly on. It's only 4:44. Dusk in the north comes early, sneaking in around 3 and by 5 it is too dark and cold to fish. Dropping temps also force their opinions. Well, maybe just one more cast.
At this point I'm pretty much in desperate need of warm fingers, a thick steak and a warm cabin. No problem, just 110 kilometers back to town. Sure glad the logging roads I'm sliding down are glazed in ice and traveled hard by logging trucks.
images: Babine Buck, -5 is a lot better than -15, Kispa on my pack, full moon in BC
