Back in May of 2020, COVID provided an unexpected opportunity. I had a week carved out to ride my bike to Estes Park CO and teach at a writing conference, then COVID cancelled it. So I subbed in a trip to my beloved Sierras to pull out some trout. I rediscovered why we call it fishing, not catching, because the catching was below mediocre. Maybe pathetic. And from mid-morning to mid-afternoon, it almost totally died. I grew sad…