Up and at 'em fairly early. There are no crowds to beat. The bicycle crowd is headed to the bridge and beyond, so I had the west-side grassy run in front of the ranch houses all to myself. Long stories short, I got my ass handed to me, or fucked up big time, depending on who's judging. The first big eat simply didn't get hooked right. As it started the first move downriver instantly after the take, the hook pulled and my heart sank, thinking that would be my only chance with the bugless water. 150 feet downstream, right on the grass, I had my second take. That one ate, turned, and disappeared with my fly and a few feet of 4X. It happened so fast, I don't know what happened! Now I'm cussing for a few seconds. 100 feet below that crime scene, I get a third fish. This one is on, until it bolts downstream and then turns up into a thick jungle of weeds. The pulses subsided, and I'm left with 15 pounds of weeds. They've done this before. OK, I did catch a few small fish at the bottom along the cliff, but these three fish will haunt me until I go back and get to see and touch one in September. Maybe it is a sign.
On the way home I stop at the spring creek I often fish coming and going. It was really low, was full of weeds, and I briefly hooked one average fish for about 5 seconds. I didn't stay long, as it wasn't happening either. Could be a sign. Go directly home, do not pass Go, do not collect anything further along the way.
One fried wheel bearing. One worn-out pair of leaky waders. One found pair of Dr. Slick hemostats. One lost polarizing filter and attachment. One little folder of forgotten non-resident fishing licenses at home. (Doh!) Too many hot afternoons. Little rain. And as I made my last gas stop in Wyoming . . . I get an email from Montana FWP of more hoot-owl closures and full fishing closures across the state, including the MO from Cascade clear up to Holder dam (no fishing after 2pm.) Yes, its time. Come on September!
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| Alone Again . . . |
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| Last One |
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| Not |
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| Last Hookup |
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