This report came from a buddy in Montana who made his way from Billings to the Big Hole last weekend in anticipation of big bugs and bushy dry flies. Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law and the other laws of mother nature didn’t really let things transpire as he liked.
Here’s the fishing report he emailed me Sunday night. I’m meeting up with him on Friday and hoping he’s worked the bad ju-ju out of his system:
12 a.m. Saturday starts with pouring rain, but I convince the girlfriend and my co-worker it’s just a June sprinkle.
6 a.m. Still Raining. Should blow over any minute now or burn off when the sun moves higher.
8 a.m. Blow out a wheel bearing on the trailer while driving—damned near lose the Clacka entirely.
9 a.m. Find a local welder who’ll fix it for me this week.
10 a.m. Talk the shop guy into letting us use the trailer for the day. I mean, the damage is already done (it’s still raining by the way).
11 a.m. Launch the boat. Catch a couple fish on the big bugs (still pouring rain).
12 p.m. Girlfriend isn’t paying attention to her rod hanging out the back of the boat while co-worker is anchoring. Rod tip hits a branch. Z-Axis in the drink.
Rest of the Day: Raining, cold, “who gives a shit.”
9 p.m. Realize since our boat trailer is shot, there’s no fishing on Sunday—which incidentally turned into a very nice day.