Around the Bend

"We're the children of explorers
We came here from every corner
The adventurers that settled this land"

 - American Flag on the Moon - Brad Paisley

Brushy Creek

Fly fishers tend to be keen about familiar waters - streams with which we have history. Rivers we have come to know in drought and flood, feast and famine. Where we learned to fly fish and pondered the great questions. Like an old friend that helps smooth out the wrinkles of life, familiar waters are as necessary to us as air.

But we also have hearts of explorers. Sometimes going fishing is just an excuse to see new country.

My inner explorer planned to travel south of Jackson Hole, attempting to catch each  of the four subspecies of cutthroat trout in their native ranges there. New country and new waters for me. That was before "social distancing" was added to our modern lexicon.

So instead I found myself on a "staycation" ,armed with a new guidebook, maps, and Google Earth. I began to scheme, reading and snooping  new reaches of familiar rivers via satellite.

Not Brushy Creek

Of course I wanted to catch fish, and I did. As these were "new" waters to me, my inner explorer was happy.

I met some interesting river people, including the lady on the spotted mule who told me to be on the lookout for a turquoise 9mm pistol tossed in the river by some desperadoes on the run.

Some residents I was just as glad not to have met - sleeping porcine bulldozers are best left sleeping. I have seen Old Yeller was written not far from here after all...

 Hog damage - whole sections of the bank were rooted up

The further I waded these new stretches, the better the fishing got, and the less company I had. Funny how that works. The sounds of modern life were replaced by the sounds of wind in the cottonwoods and water tumbled over stone.

The afternoon became hot. I carried water, and when I ran out, it was my signal to turn for home. But as I looked upriver the best water of the day seem to lie just around the bend, so I journeyed a bit further. And the next bend promised even better water. Unlike a mirage, the promise rang true, and I nearly overstayed my welcome.

Reluctantly, as I finally turned for home I realized how tired I was...something that never registered when I was exploring.

I was glad a stocked ice chest awaited.