Sometimes you catch the fish, other times the fish catches you. That was the mighty Green River this past weekend. Like always, I have wanted to get back to the Green since the second we pulled the boat of the water. Storms blow in fast in the fall and the weather is always unpredictable. However, we’ve been having an Indian summer out in Utah lately and when Wednesday came around and the weather was looking prime for the weekend we decided to make it happen.
When Saturday morning came around, I heard a knock on my window just before 4. Fuck, that’s when we were supposed to leave. Seven minutes later I was dressed and in the drivers seat of the Toaster with the drift boat behind me. We even managed to arrive at Trout Creek Flies ahead of schedule. Good thing I forgot to procrastinate this time around and packed the boat the night before.
The B and C sections of the Green are my favorite for the lack of people and the size of the fish so naturally that is what we floated. I was thinking that we would be fishing streamers since the browns are gearing up for the spawn, but the fish were still taking down terrestrials aggressively so that is what we stuck to. Fat rainbows on the B, probably from eating all those hoppers throughout the summer.
There aren’t any pictures to go along with this story because my dog ate my camera a few months ago and you don’t stack paper when you only work two days a week and fish the other five. Kyle had a camera when we launched the boat, but waded a little bit too deep without one of those waterproof ones. Strike one.
Speaking of shit hitting the fan, my dog saw Ted’s dog swimming in the water and decided to take a dive in to say hello. In the process snapped the 7 weight Ted was kind enough to let me borrow since I’ve been getting real good at breaking rods this summer. Strike two.
The second day was a slow start for me thanks to a little bit too much booze cruisin’ the day before. I started out hucking some meat with the Sex Dungeon and a Sasquatch. A couple of fish tried to roll it, but none were willing to take the bait. I switched back to a cinnamon ant and a rainbow warrior dropper that seemed to be working rather well the day before and instantly felt the tug of a small brown. Next cast, the rude boys started acting up. Soon after Kyle and I were switching between oarsman and fisherman and I threw my bag of flies on the front seat and managed to snap my second fly rod of the trip that was not mine. Strike three. Shit. Good thing I have a boat, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have any more fishing buddies.
Luckily, these rods come with warranties and I was packing a spare for Kyle to use. I kept on fishing with the seven weight with a broken tip, but it is what it is. Like usual, Swallow Canyon boat ramp came up too soon. After two days on the Green you just want more. Hopefully, there will be at least one more trip out there this year. Oh yea, the ride home went down smooth, without any fuck ups on my part.
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