Most people, when we decide to go fishing, dig some worms or grab the power bait and head for a close-by body of water that has been stocked by the DNR (Division of Natural Resources). Sometimes we have to shoulder up to the folks who got there first, and try not to cross our lines as we routinely throw out our worm and watch the movement of the bobber for a tell tale sign that a fishy nibble has taken place.
Not at Greys. Not here.
HERE, there are no worms, no power bait, no stocking of the waters, no folks, no bobbers. HERE, there is . . . Justin.
Justin, who has elevated fishing to a fine and gentle art. I think, perhaps, the only thing which surpasses his love of fishing is his love of seeing OTHERS come to love it. Aaron is another brother with the same appreciation of this unique sport. The cutthroats here are wiser, stronger, pickier than the farm-raised and planted fish of the usual places. We spent a couple of days and nights and loved the place, the fish, the family that was here. I have so many beautiful images to document this trip. Alas! no time to blog for a while. But here is a preliminary post. Those that will see us at reunions this weekend will probably get the fish stories first hand. Thanks Justin and Aaron for the best of times!
Did Abby have a good time?
What, or who is Aaron aiming at and why?
What is Amy’s fish story and why isn’t SHE holding the fish?
Where is this place and who’s fishing it?
What is making this one-man pup tent burst beyond its borders?
Who ate 5 (or was it 6) of these right before leaving?
Who wears a bungee cord to hold up his/her britches?
All and more shall be hereafter revealed.
Incidentally, the annual, male-dominated, chilly October trip is still on as usual. We left an offering to the fish gods, and Evan will perform his lucky fish dance to ensure another successful experience.
Some of the beautiful Snake river cutthroats that came our way.
