Santiago managed to leave work quite early today. Too much stress at work lately, and to top it all, the long period of drought followed by torrential rain had forced him to hang the fly rod at the nail for a while. During the last weekend the weather stabilized. Being able to cast the line and test some new flies he had been tying during the fishing abstinence sounded like a fantastic program to close the day. The small freestone river was his beloved place when he needed some peace. It is true that there he'd never caught a fish bigger than 25 cm., but the small trout that dwell there were real fish. To catch one or two of them was for him a far greater feeling than fishing for stupid stocked 'chicken' fish. The last three weeks he'd spent a few evenings at the fly club, where due to weahter conditions, the fly fishermen members gathered regularly. They had been tying great quantities of new patterns and telling stories of big trout in front of a pint. All this side fly fishing activity had loaded him with enthusiasm and now just the fact of being at the water was filling him up with joy. Fully concentrated in the fishing action, almost in trance, he was feeling in symbiosis with the drifting nymph. He could figure the sunken fly while it was taken by whirling water and bumped from stone to stone.