A friend of mine invited me to share a few fishing days with him and his best friend, June. I had met June as an 8-week old pup so I’ve watched her grow up to be an amazing dog on the river. Mike tells me she’s even more amazing hunting upland birds.
Whoever named the North Tongue had a good palate. This river offered a full spread of delicacies. The fish were abundant, the hatches still present even though it was September at 6000 feet, the wading easy and the scenery remarkable. A perfect recipe for catching lots of fish. Just like the perfectly constructed flan, it sometimes falls flat. Although I had a marvelous couple of days, I only caught one fish each day. Definitely in a casting slump.
I will say over and over again that it’s not about catching fish except that catching fish means you’ve put it all together – your line, your flies, your cast, your drift, and your set. I actually like experiencing again what it’s like to be a beginner at something. It helps me relate to others who don’t have the same expertise that I have in other areas.
If you’re looking for elbow room, Wyoming is the place to go. Everyone I met had stories of Moose and how they walked on water to escape their charges. I was careful as I made my way around each bend in the river, wondering if I would encounter one as well, but I did not, and I think I’m glad I didn’t.
