Joey Bagels
Well-known member
We all have our favorites. Utah, you're nice and fun to hang out with. You look great and always make me smile. Colorado, you're polished and posh. All the guys fish you and you're kind of high maintenance and I don't see a long-time future with you, but I enjoy spending time with you. Montana...you're kind of "loose." But Wyoming, you're my first, and truest love. You're who I dream of when I'm home in my bed.
Even Walmart acknowledges the importance of flyfishing in Wyoming.
It's been 20 years since I last set foot in this particular river. WHY??? From the photos, some will recognize it and that's ok. But we all have our main squeeze and this is mine. I'm not sure why it took two decades for me to come back to her. Probably because I had to go through some stuff and live some life and then come back to check in and see where all things are for both of us now. Car picked up at the airport, food and necessities acquired. Here I come!
I pulled in yesterday afternoon.
Figured I'd try to entice some big browns after checking a favorite old run. Missed one really nice,colorful rainbow at the net when he broke off and then caught a midget.
And this:
Somebody lost the entire rig and my nymph snagged it and delivered it to my gloved clutches. I used this recovered indicator for all my nymphing the rest of the trip. Figured the fishing gods were telling me something.
This hole was the first spot on the river I fished. A fellow named Dave from Colorado brought me here as a 14 year old aspiring fly angler. He fished bait and occasionally hardware. We met a couple of years before when he saw me trying to fish and my dad, who never fished in his life, trying to help. Dave and his wife had grown sons and took it upon themselves to be my mentors in angling. But they didn't fly fish. They thought it was good, though slightly amusing that I had the bug. Out of nostalgia, I fished the run, but so do all the bait and spin fisherman. Not many fish were home. I swung a muddler for awhile at another spot, where I camped, and then tucked in.
Morning!
Coffee brewing in a 1918 canteen cup my dad gave me (he worked on the battleship Missouri in Long Beach in the '80's and salvaged a bunch of gear stashed in the hull and destined for recycling).
Last night's lodging.
Time to try for some browns again.
No dice. Maybe the rainbows are awake?
So much water, so little time (I need to meet a coworker this afternoon since it IS a business trip after all).
First stop.
Seriously?
Next stop. Mayflies are starting to show up.
Better.
Time is running short. Better check my last spot. My friend Greg and I fished it 20 years ago. Hope it's still got some hungry customers. The mayflies are hatching like crazy now, looking like snowflakes in a blizzard blowing across the water. Mostly Baetis, but some big sulphurs too. Few fish rise. They must be taking nymphs and emergers.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh. That'll do. Let's not wait another 20 years. I'll be better I promise.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
Even Walmart acknowledges the importance of flyfishing in Wyoming.
It's been 20 years since I last set foot in this particular river. WHY??? From the photos, some will recognize it and that's ok. But we all have our main squeeze and this is mine. I'm not sure why it took two decades for me to come back to her. Probably because I had to go through some stuff and live some life and then come back to check in and see where all things are for both of us now. Car picked up at the airport, food and necessities acquired. Here I come!
I pulled in yesterday afternoon.
Figured I'd try to entice some big browns after checking a favorite old run. Missed one really nice,colorful rainbow at the net when he broke off and then caught a midget.
And this:
Somebody lost the entire rig and my nymph snagged it and delivered it to my gloved clutches. I used this recovered indicator for all my nymphing the rest of the trip. Figured the fishing gods were telling me something.
This hole was the first spot on the river I fished. A fellow named Dave from Colorado brought me here as a 14 year old aspiring fly angler. He fished bait and occasionally hardware. We met a couple of years before when he saw me trying to fish and my dad, who never fished in his life, trying to help. Dave and his wife had grown sons and took it upon themselves to be my mentors in angling. But they didn't fly fish. They thought it was good, though slightly amusing that I had the bug. Out of nostalgia, I fished the run, but so do all the bait and spin fisherman. Not many fish were home. I swung a muddler for awhile at another spot, where I camped, and then tucked in.
Morning!
Coffee brewing in a 1918 canteen cup my dad gave me (he worked on the battleship Missouri in Long Beach in the '80's and salvaged a bunch of gear stashed in the hull and destined for recycling).
Last night's lodging.
Time to try for some browns again.
No dice. Maybe the rainbows are awake?
So much water, so little time (I need to meet a coworker this afternoon since it IS a business trip after all).
First stop.
Seriously?
Next stop. Mayflies are starting to show up.
Better.
Time is running short. Better check my last spot. My friend Greg and I fished it 20 years ago. Hope it's still got some hungry customers. The mayflies are hatching like crazy now, looking like snowflakes in a blizzard blowing across the water. Mostly Baetis, but some big sulphurs too. Few fish rise. They must be taking nymphs and emergers.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh. That'll do. Let's not wait another 20 years. I'll be better I promise.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
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