The blog of the adventures (or mis-adventures) of an active mountain woman.

Far From Somewhere

I’m not exactly sure where we were, but it was an hour from Wheatland, Wyoming and stunningly gorgeous. The topography was dramatic and very un-farm like (which is what Wheatland is known for. You know – wheat + land. Clever clever.). Sloping granite and stony hillocks abounded with rumors of a while marble ridge somewhere in the vicinity. And naturally, a river runs through it. Well, more of a creek or mountain stream, but let’s not split movie title hairs.

While there was plenty of rifle powered adventure, I choose the activity with a start time later in the day for a little fly fishing and found the entire expedition a bit “more” than I had bargained for.

To empathize, I suggest you try the following exercise:

1) Sit down and puut a soccer ball in your lap against your tummy. Yes, a real, full-size soccer ball.

2) Bend forward and fiddle with velcro straps on fly fishing sandals making them secure enough to close up bulk over water booties but not so tight you can’t feel your feet.

3) Find a jacket to zip over you and soccer ball. Bear in mind the “activity” hasn’t started yet.

Luckily, my husband is part giant and I could steal from his outdoor apparel stash. The next complication cannot be blamed on the impending baby. Nope, this one is all on my shoulders. While I may skate in other athletic arenas based on the sheer number of hours I have logged at some point in my life, this situation does not apply to fly fishing. It would appear that my several yearly attempts just aren’t quite enough to get “good” at the sport. Heck, I would settle for decent.

I started with a dry fly, which is infinitely less stuff to get tangled up. Alas, that pesky sage brush also managed to hang me up more than a few times. I would say at the start of any fishing trip, I have about 10 – 20 truly terrible casts before I begin to remember what the heck I’m supposed to be doing. Naturally, by this time all the fish have sent up the “something is not quite right about that fly” alarm and have decided to smugly circle my fly in a taunting manner. This is where one being able to partake in adult beverages is a helpful state of health.

Also, I cannot partake so I merely toddle on to the next fishing whole to spook some more fish. While I won’t reveal my final count, let’s just say I’ve had better days. And luckily this stream had a super healthy population, allowing us to keep a few appropriately sized rainbow trout  (that I didn’t catch…) home for dinner that night. Which makes the trip a success overall, I suppose.

 

 

3 Responses to “Far From Somewhere”

  1. Juli Winthers says:

    Is that a snow machine you’re hauling? You guys really were ready for anything! The scenery looks a lot like ranch my daughter worked at a few years back – The Flying X out on Halleck Canyon Road.

  2. It was a 4-wheeler, not a snow machine. We’re not quite that optimistic for winter :-) We weren’t at the Flying X Ranch – we were down Tunnel Road, if you know where that is!

  3. Rebecca says:

    Thats what you get for fly fishing…

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