The Eddy Wife wasn't surprised when I announced that I had struck a deal with my fishing buddy Sam to hit the Beaverhead (the one river in the region where they haven't opened the gates) on Friday. I had reconciled the gas problem by paying Sam off with some freshly tied beadhead nymphs. When we crossed the divide at 9 a.m., it was snowing pretty heavy. When we parked at the access point and began to rig up, it was snowing even heavier. I guess western Montana never got the memo about the calendar turning to May.
The Fishing Gods blessed me for seeing the error of my ways and we caught our share of chunky browns (and a whitefish) on nymphs in the falling snow. In the late afternoon the sun finally made appearance and some blue wings showed. I was even able to fool a couple of risers with a Blue Wing Cripple pattern. Because of the snow and my paranoia surrounding my new toy, I left the camera in the car for most of the day, but on the last hole Sam made a heroic trip back to the car so we could photograph at least one fish. The Fishing Gods rewarded him with a foul-hooked brown that took him 30 feet downstream and got his heart racing. Here's the evidence.
After the storm.
Sam battling a ten-inch brownie hooked in the side.