It was the last week of March and the tributaries were ripe for thepicking. During our annual pre-season scouting run, two days before theopener my buddy Nate and I noticed that the pair of limestone tribs wealways fish were running “green”. It had been a few years since we’vehad such favorable conditions, previous years brought drought likeconditions due to lack of snow pack, other years brought monsoon likerains, premature runs of fish and rivers of chocolate milk. This seasonwould be different! The fish were in there, we didn’t see them butsomehow we were intuitively aware of their presence. At this stage of the game, the desire to cast to these fish was onlyparalleled by their propensity to spawn. It took everything we had inus to abide by the rules and regulations set forth by the great state ofNew York. I wanted to string the rods up on the spot and wade into theswift flows and across the soft pea size gravel. Our better judgmentand respect for the resource kept us on the shoreline as merespectators. Needless to say we were back at our favorite pool that first day ofApril last year at 5:30 am. Surprisingly enough we had no company onthis stretch of water for the first hour of light. The weather was raw,blustery winds and small hail stones, typical of early April in CentralNY. After a thermos full of coffee, I was trembling so bad I couldhardly thread the 6x tippet through the eye of the size 14 Glo bug. Theanticipation was killing us as we stood in the current of this stream. Istared at my watch methodically, waiting for legal time. Finally it wasthe start of the 2004 trout season! My first cast laid right in the seam perfectly, one upstream mend, twoticks on the bottom and half way through the drift WHAM! It was likesomebody put the air brakes on. I yelled upriver to Nate “fish on”.This fish was hot! She had me into my backing in seconds. This fishdefinitely had the upper hand, I was fishing 6x tippet and the flowswere pretty steady. After a couple of tail walks, a fifty yard dash anda game of tug-o-war I beached the beautiful specimen on gravel bar inthe middle of the river. A seven pound hen, the transparent fins toldme this fish had traversed about ten river miles overnight and still hada full head of steam. We fished many miles of water that day, hooked, landed and lost manymore trout and had an outstanding opener. I have found that the time Ispend on the water with great people in great places is what putseverything into perspective for me. As I grow a little older and gain abit of wisdom along the way, I’m starting to understand that its notreally the fish that I’m after, but it is more the experience ofrelating to good friends in a natural setting on Mother Nature’s terms