Picture how long that week leading up to the trip took..... minutes felt like hours, days seemed weeks long.
Then boom, picture this.... cold , clean , pure streams with famous names, picture old fishing camps built the way they should be, picture World War II Era helicopter fly overs and days spent chumming with your old friends and making new ones.
Picture this...... brook trout that fight like steele, smash the surface and race to the far bank to hold in the current
Picture bugs of all species, late night and early morning tying sessions, getting off the river at 11pm and eating dinner around 12:30 am
Picture huge moose balls and terrific rain storms.
Picture watching a 5+ pound trout feed mere feet away from you in 12" of water.
Picture 5 dudes, 9 rods and a cooler in a 14' aluminum.
Picture setting more than one stranger up for a fish of their life, with a fly that your friends tied hours before, netting that fish in fast water and snapping that photo.
Picture drag racing canoes at last light
Picture old Maine salts telling stories in a hand made cabin.
Picture getting the go ahead to shout " Tell him to Fuck off you are with the landowner !"