The night sky is grudgingly giving way to a cold steel light that will eventually turn into a new day. The only sounds are your footsteps on the soft pungent ground and the murmurs of the stream off to your left or right that is just now becoming visible. When you first speak it feels like you have violated some sacred facet of nature. The discussion almost always drifts to one of tactics and strategy for the day that will soon be upon us. The anticipation has been building since you left the car but is now gaining momentum.

The night sky turns to a half-light that illuminates the ridgeline above the stream. Maybe a deer or two will be silhouetted moving down the ridge, or maybe they won’t be, but the forest is starting to come alive. The small and not so small animals are starting to rustle in leaves and brush on the ground. Day has not quite conquered the night yet, but the feat is close at hand.

As you step into the water that magical half-light of the awaking morning spreads over the water. The Mid Atlantic morning humidity hangs like a cloud just over the cooler water. Together they paint an imagery out the best dime store (dollar store nowadays) ghost novel. The fog from the cloud on the water rises well into the trees. Quiet is still in control and the sense of serenity is overwhelming. The water feels cool through your waders as the current presses against your legs. Off in the fog there is a solidarity plot of a trout breaking water... maybe for the first time this glorious morning. You can’t see it yet, but just the sound raises the anticipation level several notches.

On the far bank a Night Crested Heron stand motionlessly, but sees everything. In the fog of morning it looks like a specter from the prehistoric pass. A mink scurries across the stream. Its path through the water appears to be aimless, but it’s not. Both animals are here for the same thing that we have come for. We are all here for the trout in the water.

For the mink and the heron it is the serious matter of survival. For us it is a communication with our inner self. It is an opportunity to renew our spirits and add a little balance to a hectic life. This is a chance to get a few wind knots out of the leader of life, so to speak. Whether we catch one or many trout today really matters not. We have already captured much of what we came for.

Let’s beam ourselves 450 to 500 miles to the north. In the High Peaks Region of the Adirondacks night does not gradually give way to day. The sun erupts over the 4000 and 5000 foot mountains. The night sky, which was so full of stars you couldn’t count all them, turns a radiant blue in seconds. What little humidity there is steams off the water in little spirals of mist within an hour or so. The majestic Adirondack Mountains stand exposed in their lush forest green and scared granite cliffs.