Copi Vojta sends this pike dispatch from Colorado’s western slope:
My favorite thing about pike fishing is that I am transported back to the beginning. Once again, I’m a rookie. My cast is horrible (due to the wet sock tied to the end of the line), a slow sinking fly line, and the heaviest fly rod I have yet to handle. After an hour my shoulder feels like jelly on burnt toast. I have only a slight notion that I am casting to water where a northern might be waiting and watching. So, I nap in the sun, a tuft of brown grass for a bed, my camera bag for a pillow. I listen to the bullfrogs and flies. I get up, sigh, and think to myself how much better this is than catching trout after trout.