Before the pandemic shut down the world, I was fishing with my buddy Bridger Lyons in Utah, chasing blue-winged olives. We were riding one of those rare warm spells that show up every spring here in the Rockies. The warmth makes it feel like spring is right around the corner.
Then, disaster strikes – and that’s exactly what happened to us while on top of Snot Hill.
Read the full story here. I think it’s a good way to kick off this weekend.
A Quarter-Century of Fly Fishing