After four days and countless fish our feet are pruned to the point of dissolving, our landing thumbs are mangled, and we have sand in every craw. In other words, perfection. It’s been an amazing week of big healthy fish, but now with the end approaching a new question emerges: what note do you end such an epic trip on? For me it’s a no brainer. From my chest pocket I produce a clear sandwich bag inside of which sits a single yellow popper, given to me by the legendary Lefty Kreh during the last few months of his life. As the Godfather, Grandfather and Original Gangster of American fly fishing, Lefty had fished with some of the biggest names of the 20th century, and this fly puts me one degree of separation from the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Ted Williams, even Fidel Castro. On receiving the gift I had promised myself never to fish it, but a legendary bass river calls for a legendary bass bug. I like to think Lefty would have agreed.