Evening at Silver Creek

I did not take long for me to realize the folly of traveling to one of the biggest wetlands in the region after the wettest June in recent memory. As soon as I stepped out of the truck I heard the undulating, roaring buzz of untold millions of mosquitoes bouncing around in their swarms like clouds of ricocheting particles. It was hot but I threw on a sweater anyway and sank in between 8ft tall sagebrush. Silver Creek is a Nature Conservancy Preserve, chock full of trophy trout I could actually see hovering in the clear pools. Kathryn's husband is a world class fly fishing guide which is pretty standard for this part of the world, in that rather than just guide in the best waters of North America, he also dabbles in the outer Mongolian guide scene. Kind of like the uber-local food restaurant manager who holds some record for a 220 mile hang glide, or the kids on the ski hill some of which fly up from L.A. and are on the Olympic Development Ski Team. Anyway, Kathryn's husband refers to Silver Creek as the "Grad School of fly fishing." I'm thinking of applying.