Waiting quietly… for that moment… that perfect moment when… Hey, was that a pull?
No. That was a black fly pinging off of the rod tip.
Concentration and focus. Careful meditation and planning meet silence, only interrupted by the lapping of tiny waves pushed from the sunset against the side of your boat. Feeling the line going down into the cold water as your other senses bring you the sound of a loon, the caress of the cool breeze out of the forest, the scent of the water and pine.
Soon, the silence will be ruptured by the rumble of the motor starting. Soon, the wind will be at your face and you will be looking for that one light on the hill that will lead you back to the cabin. Soon, you will be surrounded by the grumbling and laughing of the others as they recount their own experiences over pan fried fish and cold beer. Soon, the cards will come out and you will gladly donate your quarters and dimes to the pot, knowing that it is only an interlude, a contrast, a border, between this moment and the next time you are concentrating on the rod tip.
But, for now, for this moment, there is you and, somewhere, about ten feet below, a walleye eyeballing your little, green and orange, grub tailed jig.