2010
07.22

Picking up where I left off in the last post.

7/13 – Bitterroot River

The 13th, our second day on the Bitterroot with the guys from the Missoulian Angler, began with groggy eyes and lot’s of campfire coffee to clear the cobwebs.

A Wee Bit Hungover?

A Wee Bit Hungover?

Our first breakfast on the river was a revelation. Bacon, eggs, OJ, granola, and yogurt filled the tank for a second day of casting.

Bitterroot Breakfast

Bitterroot Breakfast

While packing up camp I found a Green Drake mayfly in my tent. The fish love these things. Up close I thought they were pretty neat looking too.

Green Drake - In My Tent

Green Drake - In My Tent

Green Drake - In My Tent

Green Drake - In My Tent

It was a good day fishing. Better than the first. The Bitterroot appears to be a very healthy fishery. The scenery is unbelievable, the fish are fat, healthy, and are excellent fighters.

Here is a good Cut-Bow that came to my net. A cut-bow is a hybrid trout that results when a rainbow and cutthroat inter-breed.

Bitterroot Cut-Bow

Bitterroot Cut-Bow

I didn’t get photos of the ‘bacon bombs’ but they were an equally exciting and dangerous way to close out our second day on the river. After dinner the men became boys when beer, fire, and bacon grease were combined to make mini mushroom clouds of flame. Casey, our outfitter, set a coffee can of bacon grease from breakfast in the fire. He let it sit there for 10-15 minutes while the ‘impurities’ crackled into the fire. With the grease can good and hot, he inched his way up to the campfire with an open beer and a wicked grin. He poured a few sips worth of beer into the super-heated grease. A 7-8 foot column of flame erupted into the darkness. I’m only a little embarrassed to admit the glee it produced. I’m also only a little bit embarrassed to admit that my glee was quickly followed by wondering what we’d do if that can of grease tipped in the wrong direction and hit someone in the face with the bacon bomb. On the river, in the middle of nowhere, the victim would be in deep shit. Guess I’m getting old. Reassuring to know a little glee still accompanies my age induced worries.

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