A day to relax and log some couch time sounded appealing. Fresh off a river trip, we were visiting my folks and they had taken the kids out for the day. I was tired and it would be a treat to have my parents house to myself for a few hours. Then the phone rang. A buddy had heard I was in town, he and his son were looking to spend a day on the water. Rumor had it that the salmonflies were out on the Yellowstone.
It didn’t take a lot of convincing to change gears. A couple phone calls later and another friend had taken off work. In short order we had the windows down and were all headed to the river. I grew up in Paradise Valley and a bit of nostalgia ran over me as we passed through Livingston, heading south.
Once on the river our fishing dreams were quickly brought down to earth. The bugs were further up river, which we knew, but our hopes that we could avoid the crowds and have eager fish behind the hatch didn’t pan out. Plus, the river was still pumping around 10,000 cfs and needed to drop a bit more before the fish would really get to work and eat. It didn’t matter.
A day on the water with close friends I rarely see, in a place that I love, was more than I could ask for.