Fifty years ago, only a few hearty souls lived in West Yellowstone year-round. The reason? Because of temps like this. Tim Daly, a true local, once told me a story of going house to house, with snow banks to the roof, looking for milk at 50 below. Milk came via airplane about twice a month, if I remember that right….fresh veggies arrived the same way…..fresh veggies meaning potatoes and onions. Remember this – a vegetable is defined as an edible plant or part of an edible plant, and Idaho has lots of them.
While looking out the window this morning, with coffee in hand, the sun blasting the snow made me feel warm and fuzzy. Then I went outside to grab a few more logs for the wood stove (our only heat) and felt the air smack my wet nose and throat – it made me cough. No fishing today, however, it may be time to run through all the stupid little clear hockey pucks full of flies and get an inventory on what needs to be churned out from the tying bench.
These cold days bring memories of summer – feet wet from wading, sun gloves wrapped around my hands, floating down the river just above the Cameron Flats and waiting for that brown to explode from the river – hooked to angler in the bow of my boat. Said angler is always surprised when this happens, yet we are fishing. That is why fishing is so damn fun. It takes your mind off everything, relaxes one to the nth degree and allows one to be surprised by what you are trying to accomplish.
Summer is coming…….but who knows when.