We Call Him Mad Max

We all Know the guy named Max.  Max on his route back to   Taipei   stopped here in Portland to revisit some old friends.  While here Andy and I took him to the Clackamas river for a float and a little fly fishing.  Max never had fly fished  before,   his fishing background was mostly off a dock in Old Lyme catching blue gills.  Remembering back to those days I don't recall Max ever touching a fish so I was much inquisitive as to what would happen if he actually landed a fish.  As we began our journey Max in the rear of the boat sat and starred at nature in all it's glory.  He wasn't in the big city anymore, he was in a boat floating down a river or standing in the middle of a river surrounded by nature. To see him in the boat and fish was just as much a joy for both Andy and myself, to see the peaceful look of solitude that overcame him.    I'm sure if there wasn't a fly on the end of his line, it would not have mattered. Andy the master fly man that he is spent a few moments with Max and showed him the way.  Within minutes he was on his own and in his own zen moment.  The day was perfect, not too cold, slight overcast and no wind.  We made our way down the river guided by Andy stopping at his favorite riffles along the way.  The day ended as it started, Max with a smile on his face.