I am lucky in life that I can call this my office sometimes. Sure, there’s no desk, no computer, but trust me, I work hard when I’m out fishing. This time was a little different than other trips in that I had company. Imagine that…someone wanted to fish with me. After squealing like a little girl and jumping up and down, I composed myself and said, “Of course I would like to go fishing. You know…if you want to and all.” We were set, me, my dad, and a family friend, Wayne.
Couple things about this trip were new to me. 1, I had never fished with Wayne. And 2, by dad bought a fishing license. He probably hasn’t had a license in over 30 years. Go Dad. We hit the summit at just over 9000 feet. Snow drifts lingered on the northern slopes and under shaded trees. We fished for Tiger Trout, and got skunked. The closest thing to a fish was when I had a bite and set the hook like Jeremy wade catching a 200-pound catfish. Needless to say, it was most definitely not a 200 pound anything. My knee jerk reaction left me fishless and the poor fish, wondering how a worm and marshmallow could be so cruel as to attack him and not let go. Do you think an injured fish gets a fat lip?
The lack of fish coerced us into a venue change. We stopped at a little puddle of a reservoir and set to catching. They were average 9- 10 inch Rainbows and Cutthroat. The cold weather had made them lethargic and slow to bite. We managed a few each, Wayne using the dreaded power bait. My kryptonite. Dad dangled a worm from a bobber, and set at them with my fly rod. We rounded the day out with hot dogs roasted on the fire. The scenery was spectacular, as was the weather. Fishing in jackets and hoodies at 8000+ feet in the middle of October…who’d a thunk it? A trip I am excited to make once more.