I sit and watch (and fish a little)

The storm before the calm before the storm is winding down. As cold, brown water begins to filter into the riverbeds, we find ourselves with some down time (and maybe a little time to fish, yet).

In my reflection, I see a satisfied angler, because he gets to fish with good friends. Every slosh in the mud or cast rolled symbolizes a well-spent moment.

The fishing's been good all winter and spring, culminating with a good day on Saturday. Many fish, many photo ops, and many high-fives. I'll leave the details between the banks, save for one photo. 

High-five!

Reflecting on fishing can make any life seem luminous. Maybe that's at the heart of why so many anglers are enamored.

All this floods my mind as I watch the rivers rise.

Boat envy

I've cultivated a reputation as a noteworthy drift boat captain for the wrong reasons. In three experiences total, I've knocked a buddy out of the boat (Jim Beam made me) on the lower Madison, aimlessly pirouetted around Hyalite Reservoir (I was honestly helpless but to spiral back to the ramp - without Mr. Beam's influence), and, in a rare proud moment, had an uneventful float down a short stretch of Jefferson River. 

Therefore I've been pretty content to ride instead of row, and my boat-owner friends have been content to let me.

But last weekend I developed a concentrated case of boat envy. Within 24 hours of seeing Will's new Water Master, I had one on the way. I have to believe it's the safest way for me to learn to float a Western river.

They open up so much water, big and small, slow and fast, moving and otherwise. We are looking forward to good times on hard-to-get-to water.

To conclude a terrific week:

Thursday: Bobby Knight and the Ice-out Shoot-out

Friday: Pick up Water Master

Saturday: Drift into the fluvial cosmos...