Matt called as promised, about six PM. I had half-a-day of his time reserved for the next day and we agreed we would go out when it was most propitious. He checked with his fishing guide buddies who had been out that day and decided the afternoon would be best, it might be possible to get into a Mayfly hatch and do some dry fly fishing, the most exciting. We agreed to meet at eleven the next morning and did so.
He drove us upriver where he put his float boat in the water and got all the rods and other equipment ready. He watched me cast a few times on the bank, made some corrections in my “technique” and we took off, Charlize with us. We talked about the wisdom of taking her in the boat with us but he assured me he took his own dog with him when he fished and he was certain Charlize would adjust. It was not to be. The first time I cast my line Charlize was out of the boat and into the river after it. Matt had rigged my rod with two different flies and an indicator. We called indicators bobbers when I was a lad. He explained that with the strong wind and swift current the indicator would carry the bait downstream faster and I would be better able to mend and control the line. OK, whatever, he’s the expert. But Charlize was convinced that the bobber was her ball and she was determined to retrieve it
The charade continued, Matt and I taking turns hauling Charlize back into the fast moving boat. Finally I used her leash to snub her to the swivel chair I was sitting on so her movements were very limited. Every time I cast she barked incessantly and managed to swivel my chair enough to lunge at the cast. I lost patience but Matt was more understanding. After about an hour she finally responded to my repeated corrections, or just got tired, and settled down.
Matt told me where to cast and how to “mend” the line. Before long I hooked, and Matt netted, a ten-inch long whitefish, cousin to the trout and native to the Madison. The next fish netted was also a whitefish, then a nice rainbow, maybe fourteen inches long and heavy. We took a photo and let the rainbow join the whitefish back in the river. Then I landed two or three small rainbows, new plants, didn’t even need the net for those. They were also put back in the water to grow. A nice sized German brown trout, also native to the river was netted and photographed, then another rainbow. Amazingly when I was fighting to bring a fish in, or when it was netted, Charlize seemed uninterested, even bored. Matt told me his dog goes nuts when he brings a fish in.
We reached the pullout after almost five hours of sun, fun, fast water, and memorable fishing. A compatriot of Matt had retrieved his vehicle and trailer and parked it at the pullout site. My face and hands are sunburned but it was a fantastic day on a world-renown river, spectacular scenery and damned if I didn’t catch some fish and I have the photos to prove it. Excuse the finger, I was really excited.
I bought a couple of beers for both Matt, and myself at his favorite watering hole, and we rehashed a day I will consider outstanding and he considers about average. After we said goodbye I returned to the RV Park where I met up with Dan.
I connected with Dan at the park the previous evening when he was walking his Miniature Schnauzer and I was walking Charlize. We learned we were both recently widowed after long marriages and were both trying to figure out how best to manage on our own. We agreed to go out for dinner the following day after I returned from fishing.
We went to the local bowling alley where he had been told the food was very good and to my surprise it was. We talked for some time over dinner and discovered we were kindred spirits, exchanged e-mail addresses and agreed to stay in touch.
Here is the German Brown trout I caught. Check out the river and mountains in the background. Spectacular!