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.
High Wind Victim
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.
Muddy Water in Wyoming
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.
This post is somewhere between subtle misdirection and outright obfuscation. Kinda like this comment.