Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dry Fly Nirvana

This was the view at the end of our very long and arduous hike.

Nearly two thousand vertical feet stood between the three of us and about ten thousand hungry cutthroat trout.

We'd just spent a total of four hours hiking to facilitate six hours of dry fly fishing.

Was it worth the effort? 

Well, it would be downright rude to mention the number of beautiful Yellowstone cutts that rose to our flies.

It would be considered uncouth, in certain circles, to mention we caught the tail end of the salmonfly and golden stone hatches.  

But with reward comes sacrifice.

Blisters, raw skin and aching bones are the price of admission.

You've got to get out of the car and pay your dues. 

You've got to walk among bears and wolves into a truly wild setting.

You've got to leave a world of relative safety behind for at least one day.

Shane and a Nice Cutty
Everything about this day was perfect.  The sun, the wind, the solitude, the company.

Trout after beautiful trout rose from the depths in clear water to slurp a skittering Turck's Tarantula.

It was one of those days I knew would haunt me forever.

I keep replaying it in my mind.


  1. It looks spectacular, Brent! Sounds like you had a great day. (Bullwinkle looks very interested in Shane's fish.)

  2. 7 Mile? We hiked into the Black Canyon end of July, and although the Stones were gone, it was really fun.

  3. Yeah, same with the Black, although we saw zero Stones, they still rose to big Stone imatations, but I did throw a lot of Caddis too. Thanks for the kind words about my work. I believe we follow each other on Instagram, that's how I found your blog!