The Ignorant Angler

This photo brings back memories of a night spent at Thompson Lake in the Spanish Peaks a couple of years ago.  It was August.  A time of heat, dryness.  When I hit the trail at sunrise, snow dusted the peaks.  Five miles in, it started to rain.  Shortly after, it turned to snow.  August?
This was breakfast.  Bannock.  Simple and good, it's a staple and favorite. Low carb?  Baloney (or rather, bologna for you purists).  Not for me.  When I crave fresh bread, which is often, I'll whip up a batch, even at home.  For this batch, I'd measured enough mix into a snack baggie to make one bannock patty.  First, I made a cup of coffee on the little alcohol stove. Then, mixed the batter, formed it into a patty and popped it into the pan.
My boots?  They're an attempt at a windbreak and the inspiration for this post.  More on this later. Thankfully I didn't burn down the tent.  It was a one man structure.  Still is for that matter, since I didn't burn it down.  Too low t…

Saturday, we fished.  A once a year reunion. A couple of guys that have become friends in recent years.  And one, well, we go back decades.  It was a good day, too nice for fishing.  No, make that too nice for catching.  Everyone got a few.  But, the fish like to sulk on the brighter days.  At least that's our excuse.  In our defense, no day is too nice for fishing.  I'll share a few photos.












And on another day………...

Today, surprise, it's snowing.  Ever so lightly.  A gray day seems so strange after the succession of sun.   Yesterday I went to the creek.  The forecast was for sunshine and forties.  I couldn't pass it up.  It's January after all.  One must get out and take advantage of these windows into winter.
And so I went.  It was ridiculously nice.  Bright, perfectly clear.  No wind.  I think that it hit fifty degrees.  This would have been a great day were it the month of March.







Got a few fish, rolled a couple of real nice ones that I couldn't hold.  No ma…

I got a late start today, I knew that it would warm slowly.  High winds were forecast too.  I made the drive anyway, figuring that I could always do the Livingston fly shop tour if I got blown off the water. 
It was blowing in town.  And…it was blowing where the creek entered the Yellowstone.  When I arrived at the "Big House", I expected whitecaps.  Surprisingly, it wasn't too bad.  Betty was waiting for me at the door.  New Years Day was  a busy one on the creek she said.  Lots of anglers.  Today, I'd be the only one.  At least so far.
It was thirty-one degrees at 9:30 a.m.  Overcast.  Snow hung low over the Absarokas.



No hurry today.  Just the way I like it.  I got settled in and built a fire in the barrel stove.  Chunks of snow from the boots of the previous days anglers were frozen to the floor of the hut.  So, I did a little housekeeping and swept the floor.  
With the chill off, it was time to get rigged.   The fish probably saw a little of everything to star…