Ken coming downstream, in a satisfied sort of way: took 5o casts and two changes of fly, but he finally got that 16" rainbow that was rising to tricos.
A turbocharged rainbow, he jumped higher than my head. Returned with thanks.
None of the comforts of home, but many countervailing pleasures.
High country, empty and quiet. Except of course for the cows on welfare, grazing public land to a nubbin. Their outraged moos kept us awake for, oh, nearly five whole minutes.
nothing to say, just gratuitous prettiness.
Next morning on Lost Creek. Nothing much fish-wise, but it could not have been better.
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