The Brown Belt
The brown belt of tenkara fly fishing seen in the riparian gone to seed, felt in the waders in the cold, in the damp, in the brief days of November. To earn it is to do it. The reward, layered as most good things are, is that the fish, though scattered, sporadic, remain strong, with a few willing to strike a kebari worked perhaps at a slower pace than in spring or summer.
The sound of the moving water holds tight to a higher presence on a stream lined by trees bare but for nuts and a few aged leaves faded like worn pennants.
The pond as well has weathered the autumnal transition, and with the leaf hatch over, the fallen herded into a few corner spots, open waters rippled by wind look dark chocolate. Tannin depth nurtured by the afternoon switch from light to night, brief, almost beyond belief.
The reward, to repeat, the reward is that the fish, though scattered, sporadic, remain strong, with a few willing to strike a kebari worked perhaps at a slower pace than in spring or summer.
— rPs 11 30 2018
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