There’s something sacred about a 3:30 AM wake-up call for a fisherman. The house sits in perfect stillness—a rare commodity when you have both a wife, a baby, a dog and a cat under the same roof. This morning was no different as I tiptoed around in the dark, careful not to make the rookie mistake of wearing my “swishy” Grundéns bibs indoors. (Those of you with sleeping spouses know exactly what I’m talking about—nothing kills a fishing trip faster than waking your significant other at an ungodly hour.)
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