The Henry's Fork: Day Seven

On the morning of day seven I collect my frosted waders from the porch of our rental cabin. I had visions last night as I fell asleep of porcupines gnawing them to pieces. We're in a neighborhood where that is a possibility. But they are fine.

Frost on the windshield, too. It's what one can expect at 6,000 feet in September. We're grateful to be in a cabin this year instead of a tent. We've paid our cold weather camping dues in years past.

It's a road trip day. I have convinced John to take a day at the Teton River near Driggs. His son, Jake, who drove in from Minnesota to take advantage of the chance to explore Teton country, supports me. He's not a fly fisher--yet--but he would like to see how it's done on his way on one of several day trips he will make to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone. So off we go.

It's a hazy morning, and the Tetons come in and out of view. There is at least one fire still burning in Yellowstone.

We wade through the tall grass and willows and right into the middle of a blizzard hatch.

The fish are up and we catch small cutts and brookies with tiny dries. I could do that forever.

A moose calf comes out of the willows for a drink. Then, later, its twin joins it. The occasional drift boats tell us they have seen their mother just off the river. We keep a wary eye out but never see her.

We do see a duck who keeps us company throughout the day.

We work the bank hard. There are cuttbows in here, and the last time we fished this undercut bank John hooked a heavy fish that he played for twenty minutes and then lost.

I'm upstream from John fishing a bead head nymph in a long pool. I catch some small fish with it. Then, the fly tumbling deep along the bank, I get a strong pull. As soon as the fish feels the hook it surges away and breaks me off. I think that would have been my fish of the trip.

I have more bead heads and catch some more beautiful fish. But I don't get a second chance on a big one.

Jake gets back from a flying trip to the Tetons. We pack up and drive toward Driggs. We know of a good Mexican restaurant there, and we're hungry.