But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren’t alone]
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promised joy.?…
— To a Mouse, Robert Burns, 1786
Today’s run to chase BWO’s and friends on the Missouri were shot all to hell by a vehicle issue that popped up this morning. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and fly fishers often go awry.
Jake and I enjoyed a wet turning to snowy as hell day on the Firehole yesterday, with fish slow to warm up to a very nice dual-sized blue winged olive hatch mid-day (a 16ish ‘big one’ and another in the 24-26 range).
Early afternoon temps dropped (seemingly in a matter of minutes on the river – probably over an hour or so) from a comfortable 39 or 40 to a windy and chilly 33. Drizzle leading to rain shortly thereafter leading to a monster-sized, wet, heavy snow followed on the tails of the cooler air.
Being out of home country for a couple of years now I had forgotten how mesmerizing the early season snow can be in Yellowstone. The Park is an entirely different place with the crowds of summer long gone; these October and November snows soften the harshness of the brown fall landscape and the steam-belching geothermal features clamor for attention across the horizon. (If not on your ‘do this someday’ list it sure should be.)
The fishing day today is yet to be salvaged with a trip to a couple of reasonably reachable (the new snow of the past 24 hours considered) small waters in the neighborhood with perhaps a shot at a grayling thrown in to boot.
