Beaver Believer - Part 2

The long awaited sequel to Beaver Believer Part 1, and the epic mediocre final chapter to my first Beaverhead River trip.

 

Gettin' Down in Brown Town.

Day 2.5 started right where day 1.5 left off.  Early.  Melo-Shelo, the early riser he is, got us (well me) up early for some pre-breakfast nymphing by the dam.  A size 20 flashback PT was the winner of the morning.  Hooking a fish on that size of bug is one thing, landing it is a whole different proposition.  We hooked, fought, and mostly lost a slew of good fish.  I tell ya, when your whole world is a big, big fish, and then that fish is gone, it's one heck of a surreal feeling.  It seems like you go through all the stages of grief in about 15 seconds.  And you know what?  Norman Maclean was right, you do remember that fish forever.  When I think about it I can still vividly remember the incredible fish from my childhood.  My first steelhead, my first bull trout over 24 inches, my first Deschutes Redside Rainbow on a Salmonfly.  It's like it just happened.  I can recall these moments better than I can what I ate yesterday, or what shirt I was wearing.  Fishing for me is an elevated state of being, your whole consciousness is trained on one single goal, one single task.  Convincing a fish to eat.  I haven't found any other activity yet in life that demands as much singular attention, focus and dedication.        

 

I'm Seeing Stars........ And Some Random People.

Wow, I really went off on a tangent on that last paragraph.  Okay, back to the recap.  You know It's really hard to take a picture when you are alone!  Does anyone else have this problem?     

The Awkward Solo Picture Attempt

Adam, feeling the love.

Okay, back to the recap, really.  After a solid breakfast of bacon, bacon, eggs, and more bacon, the crew began to part ways.  I took to venturing off on a solo mission to find one last good fish.  The day went pretty much like this.  Landing a bunch of average trout and getting rocked by a bunch of above average fish.

Miracles happen though.  Once in a while.  A few of my friends had decided to float that day and had passed me about a half hour earlier in their raft while I was wade fishing.  I continued fishing downstream and happened to bump into them as they were anchored up working a great looking run.  I had my flies dragging in the current, in a 6 inch riffle, as I walked towards them and as I went to cast to avoid hanging on the bottom, I hooked something solid.  The solid object quickly turned and started smoking downstream, I played it off like I had planned the whole thing.  Not really...  We landed the fish directly in front of their raft, my best fish of the day.  Total dumb luck.  Glad they had a net.   

My Fish of the Trip.  No Skill Included.

At that point, I figured I had burned up any and all fish Karma I had up until that point built up.  I reeled in, packed it up, and hit the road for home.  No use trying to top that series of events.

Beaverhead River, I'll be back.  You can bet on that. 


Rollin' Home.