In my youth I fished a trout stream with reckless abandon. Wading fluidly with balance and precision. Leaping from boulder to boulder with confidence. Wading out, deep and often. When I spied a nice piece of water across the river, I went there, fished it, and moved on without thought to the why of it. Fishy water on the other side? Cross back, of course. Passing on a potential hook up for mere convenience seemed a waste. In my eyes, every spot, regardless of which side of the river it lay, held not only the possibility, but the probability that I might hook into a monster trout. I could persistently zig zag trout waters like this with a carefree foot and a smile on my face on every outing.