The Ignorant Angler

It was going to blow.  Real hard.  The weatherman said so.  Fifty miles an hour.  I didn't want to believe.  But, I knew better.  I needed a token fishing fix.  Even a brief appearance would suffice. Should I, or shouldn't I?  Go that is. 
So I came up with this little algorithm for helping with the decision making process.
Are you dead? 
                         Yes?   You  should have went fishing yesterday.                           No?   Go fishing today.
There.  Go fishing.  So I went.
There was no wind discount for leaving Livingston behind. It was as advertised when I reached the creek.  Whitecaps rolled on the pond in front of the big house.  When I registered for the day, Betty chimed that the ducks were having a good day.  Looking out the window, I watched as they bobbed and disappeared among the swells.
I didn't dally this day as I usually do.  With the fire built, I strung my rod, attached the smallest of indicators and tied a little wire worm to the tippet.  …

Back to August, and a brief follow-up to my previous post.  Summer had regained its rightful place on the calendar.  It was hard to believe that I'd slogged through several inches of snow just twenty four hours earlier. After a spending a chilly, restless night in the confines of my bivy, I was eager to get up and get going.
By August, the sun rises a little later.  The mornings are slower to warm.  But the sun eventually touches the valley floor.  When it's calm, its heavenly. 
Rising cutthroats dimpled the surface of the placid lake.  A fisherman's invitation.  The fish were good hosts and willingly came to the fly.  I circled the lake, picking off cruising fish. When I reached my starting point below camp, a repeat circumnavigation of the lake was unnecessary. The catching had been easy. I'd already caught my fill. I was content then, to revel in the morning, just as I am now, looking back at these photos.
So here's to alpine lakes and cutthroat trout.  And let…

What better thing to do on a subzero Montana day than look at some images from summer?  My motives?  Maybe it's just a longing for the warmth, sunshine, green grass of summer.  But wait, there's ...... snow in the photos too?  Just like in February.  Only these were taken in August.
There is an old saying.  If you don't like the weather in Montana.....wait five minutes. These photos were taken on the same day, over roughly a twelve hour span.  The lesson for all?  Be prepared if you venture into the Montana high country, even in summer.
It was crisp, fall-like when I hit the trail in the morning.  One thing that I learned long ago, always pack gloves, regardless of the season.  The wool mitts felt good and took the chill off of the handles of the hiking poles.  They would prove necessary, as would most of the clothing that I'd packed.  It would soon be donned in order to stay warm and dry.
This particular day didn't take long to turn gray.  The gray soon turned t…