I’ve fished in wind, my dad used to take me fishing on the Yellowstone and I remember how that wind would howl. In Wyoming, the winds roared up to 60 mph. We saw a guide in the morning and he gave us this look like he was getting ready to go to a funeral, “They clocked winds at 50 mph already.” Damn it.
After getting our teeth kicked in all day we headed up into the canyon because I thought there would be more places to hide from the wind. Good news, there were lots of places to hide, bad news? The river looked like this.
I plan on ending my year on a high note for the first time in several years. After this week I still have Nantucket and a “freeze your ass off” trip to Wyoming before I gain the obligatory 10 pounds for the holiday season. Perhaps I can get back to fishing next year like I used to before I had a career. God willing.