loose loops and wind knots since we started on the river, we decided to put on our wading jackets to block the wind and add a little warmth. The wind continued to gain velocity and the dark Montana clouds grew closer as we fished downstream. I started to wonder if my can of luck had been blown over by the gusting winds and was now leaking. It did not take long for the answer as cold rain started pelting us, stinging our faces and hands. Sam hopefully offered that maybe the wind would blow the rain away and things would settle down, but he did not sound convincing as he struggled with the oars to keep the boat on track. We soon passed a guide that had pulled to shore with his clients to wait out the hard rain. The body language of the wife in the back of the boat indicated that she was mad as heck and would undoubtedly keep her husband up half the night trying to explain why they did not go to Bermuda like she had wanted.
Moving downstream, I had started shaking as had Billy and it was clear the can of “luck� had emptied out in the boat and affected us. Sam said as soon as he could find a place, he would beach the boat, pull out some fleece for us to put on and cook the elk tenderloin he had brought for our lunch. Before Sam found a place to pull over, I started shaking uncontrollably from the waist down due to the cold, driving rain. Seeing a gravel bar downstream to our right, Sam rowed the boat over to it and anchored. Quickly grabbing a hoodie and fleece vest from under his seat, he tossed them to Billy and me. Putting on the extra clothes under our wading jackets, we started to slowly get warmer. Sam pulled a jar of salsa and bag of tortilla chips from his lunch kit and handed them to us then set up his portable gas grill on shore and fired it up. We devoured the salsa and chips as if we had not eaten for days. I never realized how good salsa and chips could taste. Before long, my shivering slowed as visions of grilled elk started filling my head. Sam soon announced the elk was ready and handed Billy and me a piece fresh off the grill. Like wolves on a fresh kill, we made fast work of the tenderloin not stopping for bread or condiments. The rain soon slowed, then quit but the wind was still coming in strong gusts. After filling up on salsa, chips and elk, we loaded back up and headed downstream with Sam furiously fighting the wind and current. The wind never let up and Billy and I finally put our rods up in frustration as we continued down the Madison. It was disappointing to quit fishing, but the fish were clearly turned off and the wind made it tough to place your fly close to where you wanted. At least the rain had stopped, although the mean looking clouds still threatened. About a half mile from the McAtee Bridge takeout, a large rock appeared directly in
www.southerntrout.com | March 2014 | Southern Trout | 17