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                                  New Skills.  Old ways.

  Kettle And Canyon represents my way of life.
​
The kettle references teaching myself to pressure can, learning wild game recipes,
and how to cook all usable parts of an animal. The canyon represents the land where
I am learning to hunt big game and fly fish.

​Kettle And Canyon is  my experience in the Rocky Mountains. 

Fly Fishing in Cold Rivers

7/30/2021

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Similar to most topics on this blog, I never thought that I would want to go fly fishing. My husband has been a fly fisherman the entire time that I have known him. To me, fly fishing meant standing in a freezing cold river and getting endlessly stuck in trees and reeds. My initial interpretation is not far from my actual experience.

In the fall of 2018, I started to become slightly interested in fly fishing. While in Estes Park, Colorado for a conference, my husband started teaching me a little about how to fly fish. I mostly stood in the river and watched him.

Throughout COVID, I started to fly fish a little more often. We would drive to a river about fifteen minutes from our house and fish in the evenings. I would stand in the freezing cold river and lasso the fishing line over my head. I would spend the hour or so that we were in the river “fishing” generally aiming at some random rock or spot in the river. I had no clear plan as to what I would do if I actually caught a fish. I was really just focusing on lassoing the line in the same general area.
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But, somehow, I actually did catch a fish! Unfortunately, I did not realize that it was on the line (it clearly was quite small). I continued with my aggressive lasso-technique, whipping the fishing line and the poor fish around in the air and plopped it back into the river. Only after the fly (and fish) hit the river did I realize that I had a catch. The poor thing survived (I think) and I was slightly traumatized. 
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​This summer, we went on a camping trip on the Green River in Wyoming. The water was absolutely frigid and the mosquitos were out of control. My husband came in from fly fishing on the first night and it looked like he had chicken pox. Bugs are my absolute least favorite thing on the planet; unfortunately, bugs are extremely critical for fly fishing. In order to be mildly effective at fly fishing, you wait until the hatch occurs generally around dusk, about 1 million bugs are born (okay, maybe a few less), and then you try to find a fly that matches the copious number of new bugs that have arrived in your fishing area. Here is a sample of the bug situation on the Green River:

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​Not surprisingly, I decided to sit out the first night of mosquito-infested fly fishing. But the next day I decided to give it a try. I proudly zipped up my wind and water proof jacket and trudged into the extremely cold Green River to start fly fishing. 
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​I confidently began my lasso-technique (note: I know that this casting system has a name and is very complicated, but I prefer “lasso” as that is what I envision that I am doing) and immediately got stuck in the reeds. I untangled my mess and tried again. I then promptly hooked my 9-year-old Boxer in the back. The dogs were standing near the edge of the river and apparently, I got a little over-zealous in my cast. We quickly removed the hook from the dog and I tried again. 
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Literally, on the next cast, I caught my Boxer-American Johnson Bulldog in the spine. This one was deep and the hook was firmly planted in her back. I immediately began panicking and thinking about whether there were any emergency vet clinics open in this part of Wyoming. My husband calmly worked on getting the hook out of the dog. It was really deep in her fur and took many minutes to remove.
Thankfully, he removed the hook from the dog (again) and we did not need an emergency vet. I was so shaken that I did not fly fish again on the Green River.

But I know that I will fly fish again. I find the process of standing in the freezing water extremely calming. The cold water flowing through my legs can almost be numbing at times. Although I spend a lot of time getting my line out of trees, reeds, and dogs, there is a calmness in the middle of a river that I do not experience from the banks.

​I have a lot to learn about technique, terminology, how to set up the pole, etc. People take lessons, read books, and go on guided tours to master this art. But for me, fly fishing is really just about standing in a freezing river with a lasso in my hand.
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    About Beth

    From no experience in the outdoors and few culinary skills to big game hunting and rendering elk lard, this is my journey.

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