Morning Run

Dawn in the northern reaches of Yellowstone National Park.

Tailing along somewhat along with my last post, I’ve been getting outside with every spare minute I have.

Exploring the Gallatin Range in the Fire Girl Suby during an afternoon of thunderstorms.

Hi-jacking my roommate’s dog for a morning run.

Fishing city ponds until it gets too dark to see my fly.

The Fire Girl Subaru off exploring.

Last night I got the itch to get out. So, like any semi-sane photographer / fly fisher(wo)man, I packed my bags and prepped for a morning run. My Suunto Core alarm woke me up at 0415 and I was on the road by 0430.

I brought along the basics: camera bag, tripod, rod, reel, fishing sling, Glock, a few boxes of ammo, bear spray, and a Kombucha for breakfast. I had to be back in town by noon to work.

And so the morning cast-and-blast began. Most of the local waters are too warm for truly productive fishing, and I went into the morning with limited expectations. In the darkness temperatures dropped as low as 30, making for a chilly morning’s wading. I managed – by dumb luck – to hook into a nice Gallatin rainbow on my first cast and that was to be the summation of the day’s fishing action. I fished the Gallatin from pre-dawn until 0800 or so and then made my way up to the Upper Madison just outside of West Yellowstone. Spent a few hours hiking about and fishing the Madison.

It was unproductive fishing, but sometimes time on the water is all you really need.

Something about wading in the upper reaches of the Madison feels less like fishing and more like a baptism.

Cast ‘n Blast

At 1030 or so, full sunlight was on the water and temps were rising fast. I packed up and drove through West Yellowstone; I hadn’t made it to the little town since being back and it was wonderful to drive about again, despite the tourist load. Love that town… lots of good memories.

Then I headed back down towards Bozeman, stopping at a Montana-style range to run a few boxes of ammunition through my Glock. I haven’t shot in over two years, and it was therapeutic to do so again.

Back to Bozeman, where the temperature was already climbing into the mid-eighties. The collegiate invasion presents in full swing, pissing the locals off, and it’s a bit mad. I just smile, think of my morning solace, and somehow everything seems all right.

Tags: Fire Girl Photography