I’ve managed to break my weekly posting streak here at travelingwithtools.com, which started back around this time last October. I’d committed myself to a regular writing schedule (more or less) with the goal of making this website into something more useful.
Well, two weeks ago, I set up on the Madison River at Bakers Hole campground to chase the Fall run fish, a pursuit that I’ve undertaken each time I was free to do so in the last nine years on the road. I’ve been working on a longer piece about this endeavor, since shortly after I left here last October. It remains unfinished.
This year I had a good first day, but the following six days saw me with no need to use my net. It was the worst week of fishing for me since 2017, on my winter steelhead journey to the Six Rivers National Forest in California.
I was really demoralized, to be honest. Every now and then, I wonder what I’m doing this for; why did I decide that fly fishing was an avocation that was worthy of my time and effort? Why do I have a quiver of close to a dozen rods and dozens of fly boxes, piles of gear? Why did I plan my road trip this year based on fish?
Well, what the hell would I do otherwise?
It is easy to remember the really great days on the water, and I remember specific fish on specific days. Last September, at the Ruby Lake Wildlife Refuge in Nevada… that was a special day. The memory is some small consolation when things are going poorly.
After the last week of September with only one fish in the net, I decided that I’d pause for a week and then give it another shot; maybe the weather would turn. I went to a beautiful spot 40 miles down river and spent the week reading. I went for a walk here and there. I poked at some ideas for the blog. But I didn’t fish.
Now I’m back in West Yellowstone, hooked up to power and water at an RV park for a change. I’ve got until the 15th to turn things around and maybe leave Montana with a better attitude. Yesterday I actually had two sizeable fish hooked up, and though I lost both of them, it was a decent start. I even broke out the net for one small brown that ate my little articulated streamer.
Fingers crossed…
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