I caught my first ever Brook Trout yesterday in a lake called Sayres that used to house a prison camp where the inmates manned a fish hatchery. There are relics of the hatchery left as well as a mysterious middle-aged squatter who lives there with his dog in some sort of hut covered in white plastic. The place has the strangest energy, I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the pain that was incurred there over the years by people forced to be there, when we had chosen to go out there for a casual Sunday afternoon.

I caught my first ever Brook Trout yesterday in a lake called Sayres that used to house a prison camp where the inmates manned a fish hatchery. There are relics of the hatchery left as well as a mysterious middle-aged squatter who lives there with his dog in some sort of hut covered in white plastic. The place has the strangest energy, I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the pain that was incurred there over the years by people forced to be there, when we had chosen to go out there for a casual Sunday afternoon.

Notes

  1. bobkronbauer posted this