Redemption
"The only man who never makes a mistake is the man who never does anything."- Theodore Roosevelt
I used to try fashion a life that was mistake-free. When I did err, a good bit of denial and/or negative self-talk followed. I didn't give myself much grace to live in the human condition.
I still don't enjoy making mistakes, but I am learning to accept that they are going to happen. In fact, some of our more memorable adventures have actually resulted from my mistakes, much to my chagrin.
As mentioned in my last post, I recently chose the wrong trail for a fishing excursion in Yellowstone. It was a rugged hike up a steep gradient, complete with downed timber and boulder fields. We did catch a few Yellowstone Cutthroats, and found an amazing elk rack atop a boulder. But it was not in the fabled meadow section of the creek I had been dreaming of.
I hooked a very large fish at the head of a pool in the canyon section- easily the largest of the trip. My net was about 20 yards from me. I shouted to my wife to grab the net.
Running in waders across a "beach" of softball sized rocks at a sprint is only slightly less difficult than log rolling - and with a harder landing. Tammy fell and did her best to make big rocks into small rocks...with her knee. About that time the fish came unpinned. Insult added to injury.
The impact raised an impressive goose-egg sized bruise, and put any thoughts of trying to hike the next day to the meadows on hold. We scouted a section of Soda Butte Creek, and it looked like easy access from the road. We made plans for the following day to return there as long as Tammy's knee cooperated.
We spent the evening icing her knee and hoping for the best. It looked quite painful, but its not like her to complain. So the following day we geared up and dropped in to Soda Butte Creek.
If I am being honest, I had not planned to fish this creek until after fishing the meadows of Slough Creek. I barely had given Soda Butte a second thought until mobility became a concern. My hopes were not very high for a big adventure day. But I was glad we were not in the ER dealing with a more serious injury, and we were in Yellowstone - reasons enough for joy.
As we descended the bank, we heard hoppers rattling as they flew at our approach. So on went a foam hopper. Tammy promptly hooked a huge fish under a log jam that spit the fly back at her after a few head shakes. Things were looking up. But clouds moved in, temps dropped, and the hoppers disappeared. No hatches, no rises for the next hour. I was getting frustrated.
Then Tammy spotted a large fish roll on an emerger. She pointed me to the spot. I watched for several minutes, then I saw it roll as well. Off came the hopper and on when a stonefly nymph with snowshoe emerger. A few drifts later our first Yellowstone Cutt from Soda Butte Creek slid into the net.
We found similar water throughout the creek, and everywhere we did, we caught fish. And doing it with bison bystanders was icing on the cake.
It was a perfectly wonderful day on the water.
The following day we went back to Slough Creek to hike to the meadows. Tammy's knee was still pretty swollen, but the hike in from the trailhead was not too bad.
[caption id="attachment_1135" align="aligncenter" width="3024"]
Trail to Slough Creek meadows[/caption]
We got to the meadow section in just over an hour on the trail. It took a while to dial in to what the fish would eat and in what sections of water, but once again, the day was spectacular.
[caption id="attachment_1133" align="aligncenter" width="1060"]
First look at Slough Creek meadows[/caption]
Sandhill Cranes were in the meadow, and a few lone bull bison looked on as we fished. We left satisfied that we had visited the waters I dreamt of, and caught incredibly beautiful native fish in the first national park in the history of the world. Better still, I experienced all this with my best friend. Truly a gift.
I used to try fashion a life that was mistake-free. When I did err, a good bit of denial and/or negative self-talk followed. I didn't give myself much grace to live in the human condition.
I still don't enjoy making mistakes, but I am learning to accept that they are going to happen. In fact, some of our more memorable adventures have actually resulted from my mistakes, much to my chagrin.
As mentioned in my last post, I recently chose the wrong trail for a fishing excursion in Yellowstone. It was a rugged hike up a steep gradient, complete with downed timber and boulder fields. We did catch a few Yellowstone Cutthroats, and found an amazing elk rack atop a boulder. But it was not in the fabled meadow section of the creek I had been dreaming of.
I hooked a very large fish at the head of a pool in the canyon section- easily the largest of the trip. My net was about 20 yards from me. I shouted to my wife to grab the net.
Running in waders across a "beach" of softball sized rocks at a sprint is only slightly less difficult than log rolling - and with a harder landing. Tammy fell and did her best to make big rocks into small rocks...with her knee. About that time the fish came unpinned. Insult added to injury.
The impact raised an impressive goose-egg sized bruise, and put any thoughts of trying to hike the next day to the meadows on hold. We scouted a section of Soda Butte Creek, and it looked like easy access from the road. We made plans for the following day to return there as long as Tammy's knee cooperated.
We spent the evening icing her knee and hoping for the best. It looked quite painful, but its not like her to complain. So the following day we geared up and dropped in to Soda Butte Creek.
If I am being honest, I had not planned to fish this creek until after fishing the meadows of Slough Creek. I barely had given Soda Butte a second thought until mobility became a concern. My hopes were not very high for a big adventure day. But I was glad we were not in the ER dealing with a more serious injury, and we were in Yellowstone - reasons enough for joy.
As we descended the bank, we heard hoppers rattling as they flew at our approach. So on went a foam hopper. Tammy promptly hooked a huge fish under a log jam that spit the fly back at her after a few head shakes. Things were looking up. But clouds moved in, temps dropped, and the hoppers disappeared. No hatches, no rises for the next hour. I was getting frustrated.
Then Tammy spotted a large fish roll on an emerger. She pointed me to the spot. I watched for several minutes, then I saw it roll as well. Off came the hopper and on when a stonefly nymph with snowshoe emerger. A few drifts later our first Yellowstone Cutt from Soda Butte Creek slid into the net.
We found similar water throughout the creek, and everywhere we did, we caught fish. And doing it with bison bystanders was icing on the cake.
It was a perfectly wonderful day on the water.
The following day we went back to Slough Creek to hike to the meadows. Tammy's knee was still pretty swollen, but the hike in from the trailhead was not too bad.
[caption id="attachment_1135" align="aligncenter" width="3024"]
Trail to Slough Creek meadows[/caption]We got to the meadow section in just over an hour on the trail. It took a while to dial in to what the fish would eat and in what sections of water, but once again, the day was spectacular.
[caption id="attachment_1133" align="aligncenter" width="1060"]
First look at Slough Creek meadows[/caption]Sandhill Cranes were in the meadow, and a few lone bull bison looked on as we fished. We left satisfied that we had visited the waters I dreamt of, and caught incredibly beautiful native fish in the first national park in the history of the world. Better still, I experienced all this with my best friend. Truly a gift.
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Jim