There are waters - deep and wild and holy - that guides here refer to as Fight Club. To understand Fight Club is to learn to embrace the raw hours of the early morning, the minutes and seconds and moments between bar close and the time when sensible people would be waking for their morning commute; the time reserved for insomniacs and murder mysteries. You don't talk about Fight Club, that's the number one rule (yes, I'm breaking the rule) - it's a time and place defined by ethereal moments, buzzed back casts and emotions that can only be described as innate, instinctual, RAW.

Fireflies blink in your peripherals. A friend upstream loses a huge brown trout, piecing an insult out of every obscene word he can come up with when the trout spits the fly and races downstream.

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Photo by Amanda Monthei

A pair of eyes radiate from the bushes under the glow of my headlamp. Clouds roll in. Clouds roll out. The Milky Way illuminates Ursa Major. An animal stalks us from behind a stand of ferns.

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Photo by Amanda Monthei