Chris was already awake when my alarm went off. "It snowed," he said, great I thought, here we go again. Walking outside it felt rather warm considering the overnight snowfall, still cold but no wind chill... yet. The snow covered the landscaped to create a pure white canvas. It actually looked inviting, a mural from nature so to speak, it felt peaceful.
Walked out to the boat… Sh**, f***, damn!!…Forgot to put the cover on. My thoughts instantly went back to the diner the night before. I asked the waitress what the weather was doing, "snow" she replied. Oh well, good thing I asked....we have paper plates for shovels so that's neat. We made our way back to the shop to get another shuttle and snag a few more productive flies. Chris bless his soul found me Red Bulls, few life is good.
Pulling down to the river there was the sense of peace. Wispy light grazed the water, I felt free. The wind was actually calm, sure to change but for now it was welcomed. Chris wa to the parking lot. There was nobody around, just a few sippers on the opposite shore, some smart fish at the put-in and a kid with a broken leg who was finally liberated from the confinement of a lazy-boy sticking these so-called pressured fish. Life is good.
Shoving off we decided that if we saw sippers we would target them and keep moving to the next pod. It wasn't too long before we found them...let the games begin. After getting rejected a few times we scrambled to the midge boxes, Cheech's midge box to be specific. After switching flies a few times we dialed it in. Chris went with his old stand-by the "Kimball's" and I tied on a cluster trailing a the #26 assassinator. Chris parted off the last two of his Kimball's and quickly called for back up. Luckily, Cheech had tied a few up, Chris was back in the game.
I lost way more than I liked, bent a small amount of hooks, parted a couple off and landed a few to hand. By this time Scott had done everything in his powder to get us a good drift and distance, he was killing it once again on the oars. Again, he rowed the entire day, never once complaining about anything... Scott is a stud. By this time Chris was over the sippers. The small, slender, stunted, mouth pricked Browns just didn't cut it.Especially when you could look down and see these huge fish that are not feeding on top. So, he tossed on a bugger.
By lunch Chris had landed a few to hand and while we parked on the beach for lunch he hooked into another. After lighting the stove for the afternoon braughts session, I made a few casts, OK a ton of casts and hooked into one. Good lunch and we haven't even eaten yet. Lunch was great; something about hot food on the river just feels nice in cold weather. While eating we broke down the fishing scenario...same as the day before, the midges were almost over and the buggers were on. Yesterday I was just late but it seems today we are right on schedule. So, Goldylocks and the three bears are now hunting for Browns.
Right out of the gate it was on. I found the fly and Chris dialed in the swim. Casing out and mending helped it get down quick so that you were able to get at "fish level". Once the fly was down you just swam it tight to the bottom and following the terrain. Over the rocks and then drop it back down through the cracks if you could. You watch the fish chase the fly, oh the visual takes...I couldn't get over it! It was the same feel as the dry fly, watching and anticipating, then the strip-set. Sometimes missing them of course but the experience as a whole for those few hours was just the pure untainted joy of fishing and catching. It is in the end bonds us all together, at the end of the day we are all drawn to the fish for different reasons but the same outcome is the ending goal, enjoyment. Some use it for an escape, some to add something better to their life, some for a breather from the daily grind, some do it for a living and some just live it, not something they do but something they are. All for the same result, a bit of freedom and something pure in this crazy world we live in. It was getting cold gain, might snow.
The drive home was a sad one. Arriving back to the lights of the city really set me into though deep; I do not belong here in this rat race I whispered to myself. I have lived in the city off and on for sometime, breaking it up between the seasons. But now after this trip I realized that I have been here for too long...why I'm not sure. Perhaps moving back to the mountains is in order. It was a great trip, one to remember.