Unrelated email conversations with Jeremy of Flies and Fins and Michael Gracie of, well, Michael Gracie, brought back the memories of a trip that constituted four days of uninterrupted awesomeness.  I haven’t gotten to play the tuna game since that trip, though Lord knows we try, but it’s not an everyday–or even every year–happening to have fly-rodable bluefin come into the backyard. Watch the water rip at 3:18; that pretty much sums up why this is the holy grail of northeast salt. Damn I’m ready for the season.