Twenty years ago or so, I sat along the banks of the
Yellowstone just above the falls in YNP during the summer evenings awaiting a
rising fish. Back then, I was pretty inexperienced but had a couple of good
friends that had taken me under their wing and broke me of my evil Bassmaster
ways. We would sit there smoking cigs and enjoying the setting sun at our back
and wait patiently for the next fish. There were lots of Yellowstone Cuts in
the river at the time so the wait was usually pretty short…maybe a Menthol at
most. There were always fish rising, but we waited until one came in close
enough to avoid getting our feet wet.
Those were some of the first moments in my trout fishing
life that I was able to catch lots of fish on dry flies without the aid of others.
They were special moments that etched their way into my soul along with the
sounds, smells, and sights of those few evenings in 1993. Once again, I realize
now that those were the good ol’ days and that they are gone forever, I’m glad
that I enjoyed them while they happened instead of wishing now that I had
appreciated them then.
Although the names of my companions are different and the
fish are pretty much gone from that piece of water, that bank is still there
along with the surrounding Sagebrush, Bison crossing the river, and the water
is still clean and pure. I miss the old friends Greg and Scott, and am
eternally grateful to them for teaching me the ways and taking me to all the
places. Like the river, life keeps
going even though its course might change here and there.
Beatitudes aside, a little ranting is also due. Who the F@*K
thought that it would be cool to put Lake Trout in Yellowstone Lake? I know it
was some honky, but why? Who would have ever imagined -30 years ago - that a little Whirling
Disease and a bucketful of Lakers would ruin an entire ecosystem, for at least
a generation and probably forever? I hope that the commercial netters get it
done and the Cutties make mad love in all those tribs of the lake and that
their fry make it to adulthood and swim in great numbers down the river to rise
throughout Hayden Valley once again but I am not holding my breath.
It would be nice to take my sons there someday and sit on
the banks with fish rising freely once again. In the meantime, I’ll probably go
back there in 4-5 years just to make sure that they really are still gone. I
did enjoy the day yesterday with my fishing companion of late and the familiar
feeling of this special place.
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