O for Everything

 Got up at a reasonable hour and started looking for new spots on the Eagle River to fish.  Found one where a half dozen guides were launching their drift boats.  They anchored just 50 yards downstream for clients to have a go at a great looking pool that cut into the far bank.  After they moved on, I waded over to it and worked it for over an hour.   Saw just one rise, no strikes.  Nobody on the drift boats caught anything and neither did any of my fellow waders do, I moved on.

Red Canyon Bridge.  Dimmed greatly by the smoke which the news says is from fires in California.  Superb strip of water that looked perfect for trout and there were indeed,  plenty there.  My first cast had a hefty bown side up to my fly and then turn it down.  The rest of the outing would go no better.   I targeted consistent rises in the deep, slow pools.  Yeah? No.  

Like a compulsive gambler I thought "just one more cast" or "zebra nymphs, no pheasant tail, no streamers- yeah, that's what they'll want for sure!".  No, it wasn't.  Skunked but happy to have had rises to cast to.  I'm staying at same campsite as last night.  Headed to Flat Tops Wilderness tomorrow. 

Rico:  while I was fully engaged on my next sure thing, a man in his 20s appeared, carrying a 10-speed bike.  He asked me if I spoke Spanish but I apologized in perfect Spanish (Paula taught me decades ago) that I did not.  He told me his name was Rico and asked how my fishing was going.   After  some awkward attempts to communicate further we said goodbye and he then proceeded to ford the river, bike slung over his shoulder.   Remembering my mishap at the Blue River I was pretty worried as he slipped and stumbled through chest high water.  He wound up using the bike to steady himself against the current.  No idea why he wasn't riding on the roads.