the first time I went fly-fishing I was wearing borrowed waders. The person — guy — from whom I’d borrowed them had to have been at least twice my size. I cinched the shoulder straps as tightly as possible, fit my feet into the massive boots and looked, with slight dismay, at the amount of waterproof fabric that ballooned from the top of the rubber boots to my waist. I felt as if I were playing dress up, but was slightly reassured by the fact that, if I fell into the river, the amount of air trapped in the waders …
Source:: Vail Daily Feed
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