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By Monte Burke
Fly fishing is a sport of the mind. Even when fishing with friends or fishing in a big crowd on, say, the Beaverkill River, what takes place on the water is mostly between the ears—the concentration, the strategizing and, on good days, even a bit of daydreaming.
Few things in life are as mind-clearing as stalking a good-sized trout in limpid water, or experiencing the take of a tarpon, or casting a fly into the mayhem caused by blitzing false albacore.
But fly fishing is also a physical sport—with the wading, the walking and the biomechanical act of casting—and a social one, with the travel to the water with a guide or with friends, the group fly tying sessions and the BSing that takes place off the water after both good and bad days.
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