Sunday, August 22, 2010

There is a remote place amid the peaks of the high country where the air is crisp and clean, and the smell of pine is truly intoxicating. Where lakes appear as smooth as glass, like giant mirrors, reflecting cotton ball clouds gliding across their surface. A place where time stands still and the wind moves the tall grass to and fro in gentle waves. Only in this high country can be found fish so colorful that they resemble drops of liquid gold.....

Read more in Random Acts of Fishing

1 comment:

Gaizka said...

Nice words, I also want to find this place