Lately, whenever I start fretting about politicians and deficits and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, I remind myself that I will soon be going to the Deschutes.   The salmon flies will be hatching.  The redsides will be beside themselves.   I will be right there in the thick of it.  For a fly fisherman, this is the formula for bliss, and I can't wait. Last year was my first encounter with the salmon flies and the reds... Full Story