On the walk back to our rig three stoned, blasted Bozos stop and ask us where to gain access to the water. They’re in a painting company truck from Jackson.

Photo: Ginny Holt

You never know what you might bump into while dredging. There always is hope that some beast is foraging in some deep slot. 

I used to be a snowboard bum, but fishing licenses are much cheaper than season passes. For Christmas I would like a new camera and an underwater housing.

Photo: Lee Lapine

Same spot, three consecutive days, rising slowly towards the glory...

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jcroonen/

Every year the Colorado Division of Wildlife performs fingerling bombing runs over the Rockies.

Photo: Tim Romano

Then there are the times, admittedly few in number, when everything falls into place and that little “damn crick up that half-assed service road” leads to a place of perfection, if only in a fly fisher’s eye.

Photo: Ginny Holt

The lies under stones or beneath root balls deep in the undercuts; spots you can never place a fly.