I love those moments that become the trip, the day, the memory. My favorite recent moment in fishing happened a few days ago somewhere on the upper yak. I had fished with moderate success-meaning, I had the chance to have a great day but of course missed enough fish to call it decent. (Which as everyone knows also means I have not landed anything big.) I sat on log to just watch the water and enjoy the place when I heard a loud "splat" on the upstream side on the other side of a very large overturned log. I hopped on the log in hopes of seeing what I assumed would be a large beaver but nothing. I sat back down on my log and lit a smoke, something I had let myself take back up but only for this trip. It was a really beautiful spot, on a beautiful day and the cigarette I must say tasted as unfortunately good as they can. And then the maker of the splash, a two foot long chinook jumped out of the water in front of me. Just a really cool moment. And then it was gone. And on the next overhanging branch upstream a fish rose. My paradrake landed in the right spot with an easy drift. The trout took and was large. I got it on the reel and fuck, my drag is too tight, it's a big fish, it's downstream and tight on the line, and as I turn down my drag my fly comes out, DAMN! I guess 20 inches since I didn't catch him, (making him about 18, tops). And I have to laugh. And the moment is over.