Not that anything's wrong with spinning, but you have to admit there's a special romance about fly fishing. I want to get on the casting deck and fly fish. I want to drop a shrimp pattern on a redfish's nose. I want to hook and catch five pounders. 15 pounders are seldom caught. But if the Captain blows the whistle on us, OK, we'll spin fish. Who knows, maybe wind will blow 40 knots. You can practice six hours a week, and if it's a bad day all of that's out for this trip.
We enjoyed our hour and will enjoy more. I'm on vacation for two weeks and mostly working around the clock, writing my book on fishing and performing other writing tasks. Nothing is more obsessive than writing. It gets hard to live your ordinary life. You tell yourself you don't have time to practice fly casting. But then you go to the field; you enjoy it, and you think about how you're spending so much for five days away in South Carolina, but that's not it, really. It's that you should make it special because it is special. Besides, the tensions of writing, writing, writing, and then trying to reorient around other daily demands can use a little relaxation, and casting provided this.
Matt didn't get the rod quite level on release. He pointed it a little too low.