January 12
Sauk, Hoh and Queets

February 18
Permit in Placencia

May 7
Ice Out on Hebgen

September 25
Grande Ronde Steelhead

October 25

Redfish on red flies

Howdy - you know the one about how a bad day of fishing beats a good day at work...  check this one, we drive 120 miles (stop in West Yellowstone to refuel as we forgot to do it in Ennis - the pump stopped at $100 and tank was not full) to Ice Lake to prove that there are no fish.  Its a beautiful day. 

I'm the first one to get my float tube on the water and soon drift down into a little cove to find 8 female elk - they bark and snort at me but we hang out together for about 10 minutes until I'm blown down the bank.  No fish.  I cover a deep bank of downed timber but see nothing in the gin clear water.  Now I'm blown down the lake on the opposite shore - my butt starts to get cold and maybe damp.  From across the lake I hear Bob making a commotion - but its too far away to see.  I paddle around and finally troll my way back across the lake.  Bob's gone. 

Bill and Joann Voigt (Yellowstone National Park fly fishing volunteer coordinators) mention that Bob has gone back to the car to dry off.  Oh, is that a rise?  The only non-tuber and I make frantic casts of ants - red and black - beetles and damsel flies towards the magic spot - oops, a muskrat pops up about 20 feet away - darn!  We wait and make a few more  hopeful casts.  No Bob. 

I'm now sent off on a mission to drift and gurgle (these things are neither maneuverable nor speedy) my way down to the end of the lake to retrieve the two other anglers who have been blown down there and are apparently pinned on the far shore by the building breeze.  It probably takes me 20 minutes to get down to them.  No, no fish for them either.  But luckily they have been making slooooowwww progress up the lake against the wind.  We tuck in close to the shore to find some relief from the wind. 

Its not whitecaps yet but my butt is getting colder, is it damper too?  Leg cramp!  I can't stop or I'll lose ground.  I make short little strokes with the flippers strapped to my feet - like the ones divers wear - ahhh that's better.  Almost there, just around the next point.  Solid ground.  Now this is the tricky part.  Getting out of a float tube is like a caddis emerging from its nymphal shuck - I'm vulnerable.  Someone wades out and takes my rod as I slowly walk backwards towards shore in those flippers, trying not to trip.  In the muck of the shallows I unsnap and unbuckle the bustards and toss them up on to shore.  Then gingerly step out of the floating contraption and onto dry land.   

Ah, there's Bob, bundled in his warm jacket but with no shirt.  What!?! Its tied to the antenna of the car to dry!?!   We had set off to prove there were no fish in this lake - I'm not sure that we confirmed this, but Bob did prove that one shouldn't let someone else borrow their float tube.  Turns out that a few hundred feet from shore, on a nice long cast, double hauling, he noticed that his elbow was getting wet, wetter, very wet.  Now the other one too.  He looked down to see the first of the water dribbling over the top of his waders and the last of the air pressure escaping from the float tube.  This is not good.  Kick! Kick! Kick! towards the shore.  More water into the waders.  The more air that escapes the less the "sink" tube goes in a straight line.  Panic!?!  Not yet - KICK!!! KICK!!! KICK!!!  Into the shallows, he can almost touch the bottom.  There it is.  Convergence of sinking angler and rising bottom.  Slosh, slosh.  Then it happens, Panic, like a man staggering towards an oasis - maybe its only a mirage - must go faster. TRIP!!!  Oh nooooooooo, people don't wear flippers in the desert.  SPLASH!!  a Header!  Right at the bank!  Bob finally extricates his completely soaked self from the detris and drags the once float tube down the half mile trail to the car. 

I guess don't feel too bad about the 8 oz or so that splashed down my back.  At least it was a nice warm September day for drying out.  We met a scruffy group of hikers going into the lake to camp and fish.  Bet they'll pull a nice one out and perpetuate the rumor that we will try to disprove again next year.