August

My own personal D-Day- I was to go to Billings to pick up the rest of the crew. The plan was to meet them at the airport at 8, so I got up around 5 and took off through Yellowstone.

No time to take pictures, but it was gorgeous- the sun rising behind me, fog over the Lamar valley, buffalo milling around everywhere and pronghorn cruising along near the river. I made it to Gardiner in 50 minutes, then headed north to I-90 and on to Billings.

I got to the airport about ten minutes late- no biggie. Winders, Jake, Paul, Cain, and Jo were all there. Dave, and his Bronco, were to meet up with us as well, but he was hung up somewhere in the Dakotas. The six of us hung out, shot the shit, and mutually agreed it was time to find the Old Chicago, grab some lunch and beer.

We had to wait a half-hour in the parking lot for the place to open, making us look especially pathetic. But the pizza buffet and the accompanying brew made up for that. We spent a good deal of time there, eating and drinking, until our appetites were sated and the conversation was stale.

Dave was nowhere. Well, he was somewhere, somewhere near the border of North Dakota and Montana. But he wasn’t in Billings, and he wasn’t at the Old Chicago. We waited, and waited, and decided it’d be best to take off without him, make it to Gardiner, and meet him there.

So we headed back to Livingston and bought groceries and, more importantly, beer, then headed south towards Gardiner, where we picked up fishing licenses, flies, and shot the shit with the folks at Park’s fly shop. Great people. Dave was still nowhere to be seen, so I left a message telling him we were going fishing somewhere around Gardiner, and that we’d meet up with him in Gardiner in the evening when he got to town.

We picked Indian Creek, an moderate-sized stream right off the road that’s positively loaded with eager brook trout. I figured we’d get the skunk out of the boat early, especially since Cain and Winders had done very little fly fishing. Plus a mess of brook trout for dinner would surely be a good beginning to a week of fishing. So the six of us- Jo, Paul, Jake, Winders, Cain, and myself, set out.

Easy stuff- bushy attractors and dumb trout. And not much in the way of fancy gear- most of us were wet wading in shorts or swimming trunks and sandals, a sorry lot of anglers indeed. But we caught fish, a lot of fish, and the skunk was officially out of the boat.

I think we kept about eleven total, the biggest probably twelve or thirteen inches. Nothing phenomenal, but a lot of fun, and a great way to start the week.

We headed up to Gardiner in the dark, watching elk eyes in the headlights. Waited around and Dave showed up, then we were off to camp. Got there, ate our trout, drank some beers and got re-acquainted with each other. The whole crew. Delightful.