Like gypsies

Fly anglers move, if just for a weekend at a time. Water gets stale, and the pots need stirring. Doesn't matter if the fishing was bananas yesterday, we abandon it to let it remain fruitful. Said Sir Paul in Uncle Albert Admiral Halsey: "Live a little, be a gypsy, get around; Get your feet up off the ground, live a little get around..." I agree.

Low light and low fish tallies.

One aspect of this rambling that seems rarely employed is knocking on the doors of riparian-land owners, especially by grouches like me who rarely exude friendliness (or so I'm told...grumble...). Females and octogenarians are more likely than young or mid-aged males to be trusted to trespass. And frankly, and while rare, you risk a negative encounter that might preclude you from jumping on that river legally and hiking to the desired spot, due to distrustful and watchful bourgeois or plutocratic landowners (guess who was on thesaurus.com this morning?).
We did such a thing this weekend, though it wasn't completely random. We accessed a pastoral small-water canyon that was a treat to fish, in spite of the slow fishing.

Fishy green, but weedy and shallow. 

Us: Knock, knock. Them: Who's there?
Us: Polite and stewardly anglers. Them: Make yourselves at home...

In my limited experience, most door-answerers are trusting, if only because the angler took the time to be respectful initially. Maybe we'll try more often in the future, especially if Liz is willing to bat her eyelashes ;)

Pinedale 82941

In Pinedale, Wyo., everybody plays an instrument (or so it seems). Every bar has a band and every band is at least excellent. So happened the band we patronized was the most excellent. We stayed with the front man (and his lady), who happened to be the Sublette Examiner's 2012 People's Choice Musician of the Year which, despite what it might seem, is quite an accomplishment in this hip community. Also in this band was a hilarious, bluesy bass player who apparently played gigs with the knee-high Jackson Five and Don Cornelius (let me stress apparently). The fishy fiddle/mandolin player rocked the strings, and the lead singer and the drummer flew in from New York City for the performance - no jive, it was excellent music for a metropolis of under 1,500 residents. If "6 Foot 2" comes near you, you might consider it.

And we fished. The upper Green, was in fact frozen up at Warren Bridge, but we found some access on a nearby creek where it seemed there was nothing under 15 inches. I had one of those days where I couldn't keep a hook in a fish, but Liz's 'set was solid...

We fished our way home Sunday through a wicked wind and snow shower. The fishy water proved fruitless, save for a handful of photos.

Pinedale is a hip, fishy community where the cure for the blues is to wail on the didgeridoo.