One of the perks of fishing many different places is absorbing the cultural experiences along the way. For example, on a recent trip to Blackmur’s Athabasca Fishing Lodges in northern Saskatchewan I got to fish with First Nation guides who spoke to each other in Chippewa. I had no idea what they were saying half the time, which was probably a good thing, given some of the wayward casts I made at huge northern pike.
Thing of it is, some ideals transcend cultures, languages, and geography. For example, it doesn’t matter if you’re in Tierra del Fuego in Argentina, the Bahamian flats, or the remote north woods; those who “get” fly fishing share a kindred spirit.
The same can be said for “enlightened” NFL fans. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to think some native magic ju-ju from the far north skipped right over Minnesota and landed in Titletown.