The bull elk are bugling all over the mountain these last few days. I'm running back and forth, from town to work, and back to the hills again. I've seen some huge bull elk, but haven't been able to close the deal with my bow. Still, it's worth it just to be out there with them.
Bill and Mackenzie Mixer allowed my to tag along on their annual father/daughter hopper float. (They've been hitting the river pretty hard these last few weeks. Mackenzie, who lives in Denver, has become a no-show at most of her social events, and has been buying one-day fishing licenses for a month now.) They caught 20 a few days before we went. Our day was a bit slower, but the banter was crisp and I managed to catch the first brown trout I have caught in years. Bill comes from the school of thought where you cast as close to the bank as possible and let your fly drift along the cutbanks. He was right, just this once. The brown came out of a dark, weedy bay and smashed my fly. I even got a chance to row after boating a few fish. I tried to keep Bill out of the zone, but once, while his daughter was tangled, I allowed him to fish thirty yards of brushy banks. He connected on the fish of the day. Who knows how long this dry fly phenomenon will last? For the time being, Mackenzie is staying in Wyoming. You won't find her at Angelo's in Denver, or anywhere else. She'll be in the front of Bill's boat casting foam hoppers at the shore.