I'm just here, living the dream in Wyoming. Haven't been able to commit a whole lot of time to the blog, so I'm doing a little catching up today.
Took a trip down the North Platte last weekend with the drifty. Had a special guest in the boat that had never thrown a fly line before. It had been pushing summer like weather the days preceding the trip, and wouldn't you know that things had to change for the day of the float. What had been a balmy start to the weekend swiftly switch over to a blustery day. Go ahead and float they said. It'll be nice, they said.
Maybe I'm just getting old, but when the fuck did a five mile shuttle start costing so damn much? Thirty one fucking fifty (!!!) for a quickie shuttle seems like highway robbery, but whatever. The car and trailer were waiting when we wrapped up the float, so I shouldn't bitch too much.
The float was a pain. Good company helped, but I had to row my ass off to stay off the banks. The forecasted wind was a joke. It felt like Hurricane Andrew was blowing that day. The river had whitecaps pushing us back upstream, so fishing was limited, and chance for instruction was impeded - no one needs to learn to sling bugs with a 30 mph gale blowing.
Obviously, we made it down the river, as I'm spewing this drivel today. There will be other days, and I'll heed some good advice that I heard years ago - pick your days.
So, last night was the F3T and Iron Fly in the booming metropolis of Rock Springs, Wyoming. It was put on by Seedskadee TU. They had a good turn out, some great raffle prizes and it was a good time.
|Throwing down some Iron Fly.|
|Bags of random ingredients.|
|My submission for the Wyoming Fly competition.|
|One handed tying competition. I whip finished this gem with one hand, but didn't win.|
|the aftermath of the Iron Fly.|