Big hopes, sad ending

On Monday I checked the reports and it confirmed my hopes of hatches and hungry trout on the Henry’s Fork between the Ora and Vernon bridges. Thursday would be my attempt to exercise some fabled Henry’s Fork rainbows. It was a beautiful day and I found it hard to sit still at work and lamented at the irony of having a desk job. Finally I was out of the office, in my truck, and on my way. Looking left I soaked up the lushness of green pastures and looking to my right I thrilled at the sight of the snow covered Tetons framed against the blue sky. I had turned back once already, deciding I wanted to have some thermals under my breathable waders instead of bare legs.

I reached the river with plenty of time and the sun still had a ways to go to get to that magical angle that makes the river come alive with skittering insects and boils of feeding trout. Just as I was pulling into the turnout another angler was diving off the bank towards the river. My immediate response to this sight was fleeting but probably not much different from that of a Grizzly bear seeing another moving towards his salmon feeding territory. “Oh, there is plenty of room for the both of us”, I thought. “If he knew what he was doing he would walk up the field a ways then head down to the river.”

I quickly decided to rig up first then put on the waders. No hurry to get the waders on when it’s this warm out. With anticipation I pieced together my rod and reached for my reel case. To my horror I opened it and discovered I brought the case containing only my extra spool. I wondered if the other angler could hear my scream. I stalled wondering just what I could do to salvage the trip. I knew that all I could do is head back home. In such situations a person can laugh or cry. I learned that you can do both but the laughing comes later.