The Ignorant Angler

Just a short jaunt this morning.  I needed to scratch the small stream itch.  A couple of hours would suffice.
It had rained recently, snowed a bunch too in the high country.  Quite a change from recent weeks.  
A short drive put me onto some surprisingly low clear water.  Little rainbows, quite willing, eagerly snapped up my offerings.  It didn't take long to catch enough.  Nor did it take long to get chilled on this raw mountain morning.  Silly me, I'd underestimated how cold a mountain stream fueled by snowmelt can be in May.  I'd dressed for wading the Madison.  Next May, long johns! Maybe a thermos of coffee too!

Everyone should have one.  A secret place where they can go and get away.  Near or far.  Easy to get to, or hard as hell.  Others may know about it, or maybe no one (although few such places exist anymore.)
My Curtis Creek?  It's a place that I fish infrequently.  It takes a bit of effort making it to the water. There's some hiking involved.  Then there's the blowdown.  Most years, I'm content just knowing that it exists.  Every once in a while though, I get the urge to return.
The first visit, I wet waded.  Even in late August, the water was frigid.  I caught fish, but, what I remember most, was the hours that it took to regain the feeling in my lower legs.
I went back a few years later.  This time I packed waders.  It was a bit too early in the season. The water ran swift.  I didn't want to chance wading.  Good move.



More years passed.  I went back, as in a couple of days ago.  The water was lower.  It still ran fast. Did I mention that there's lots of blowd…