Crouched on the edge of the bank, I take in all that my senses will give me.  The hue of light, from the cresting morn.  Direction of the breeze.  The humidity against my flesh.  The sounds of the woods.  The smell of the lake.

I put everything in it’s place.  It’s important to be organized when beginning the day.  You have no idea of the catch, and don’t want to fumble for pliers or a net.

I sing to myself as I go through the steps of my traditions.  Feeling excited and eager to add another file to the Memory Warehouse.   My traditions are minimal science, and mostly experience.  The keys to success.  Decreasing your chances for failure.

I start with cutting my old hook off.  I use a fresh knot every time.  Fresh hooks are good too, unless you have a honing stone to sharpen your old hook.  Which I do.  This is an ancient skill.  I have only known a few wise old fisherman to do this.  The one’s who taught me.  Of course inland fishing is much different than the sea, and I have done both.  Love both.  Next, is inspecting your equipment.  Looking for any cracks or loose eyelets.  Good line, and smooth gears.   Now comes bait choice.  Again, more experience.  I have to take into account: season, water temp, water color, time of day, and what I hope to catch.

Finally is the most important part:  Earth.

Pulling my knife from it’s sheath(when out in the wild you don’t use a pocket knife, those are for city folk) I dig for some fresh black soil.  Damp, black, and smelling of life.  I scoop this up and rub it over my hands and in between my fingers.  Rub it on the last foot of fresh line.  Hook and knot as well. I bring my hands to my face and let the aroma fill my nostrils.  This ceremony serves two purposes:  first, it’s a respect to nature and it’s provisions; second, it covers my scent.  Fish have an extremely keen sense of smell, and the earth will cover my scent.

Before I cast, I glance over the glass-like shimmering surface.  Perfect and still.  Set my bail, and with a flick of my wrist the day begins.  Oh how I adore this singular moment of hearing the bearings in my bail whining, before my bait breaks the water surface.

It’s this anticipation that brings me back over and over.