The snow was deep, the mountain air cool, the ridge frighteningly steep in places and my sweat was pouring. Fresh mountain lion tracks in the snow and the bawling of the hounds ahead urged me on even as I wondered how smart it was to bring my 8-year old daughter along. One look at Sydney’s flushed cheeks and excited smile, though, dismissed that question and refocused me on the task at hand…catching up to the hounds that were bawling “treed” just up the canyon.
Frozen Eyelets, Frost nipped Fingers… and Hot Fishing
By Shane Klippenes
I clearly recall my first attempt at fly fishing the famed Missouri River. I hit the water with my wife in a pair of borrowed kayaks, dressed for the heat in shorts, Keens, and a tee shirt when an elderly “gentleman” walked by. He was outfitted from head to toe in the latest gear and garb, looking like he had just stepped out of the pages of a high end fly fishing magazine, and as such ought to be a good source of information. After a few words, I let him know that we’d never fished the Missouri before and were wondering if he had any advice. The man paused, seeming to collect his thoughts and said “You’ve never fished the Missouri before? Well then, you’re screwed”. Having dispensed these pearls of wisdom, Mr. Snobby Pants got into his fishing guides shuttle vehicle and drove off.