Cameron Scott checks the Whisperlite and brown trout deep in a Colorado Western Slope crack. You cous-coused and boiled brown trout caught on orange flies in black canyons. We slid up and down steep chutes called trails in low tennis shoes muddy from creek crossings and swam across the tailout of a slow run to get to the other side’s fish. You kept going and going and I couldn’t keep up, the whole way back to camp to go and a rising river. I’d been driving dirt roads early in the morning, listening to sad country songs on the way to meet you in the parking lot, and your cooler had tiny Heinekens in it. We finished them all and walked the bank to find carp, and lots of them, and I watched your 6-weight bend in half multiple times. We ended hot and thirsty with a brush fire putting up smoke against the clear blue desert sky and it was an excellent reunion. While burn piles seemingly ignited all day, it didn’t deter the carp from occasionally eating flies. Bob Stewart sends a presentation to one in eastern Washington state. 074 LOOKING BACK
The Flyfish Journal Volume 13, Issue 2: Page 74
