How was your day fishing?

Terrible!

Didn’t you have a good time?

No!

What? Is there such a thing as a bad day on the river? I have fished on days when the sun scorched down upon us and we sweat so much we looked like we had just gone swimming. I have actually jumped into the river on several occasions in an attempt to cool down. River water is usually pretty darn cold, so if you jump in, the cooling down part happens quickly, with an abrupt intake of breath. I have dipped my hat into the river and put it back on, pouring cold river water over my head and down my shoulders. Sometimes, I dip my bandana in the river and tie it, pirate style, on my head. I’ll tie another one around my neck. Rivers may be lined with trees, but there is not much shade out on the water. Whatever the weather, out on the river you’re pretty much at its mercy. I have fished in howling winds and in drenching rain, where the raindrops fell so thick and hard we couldn’t see our flies on the surface of the river. One time, on the Yellowstone River, as it enters the town of Livingston, we had to stash our rods in the bottom of the boat and hunker down because a sudden squall brought lightning crashing around us. The lightning made loud crackling booms, like bombs exploding. That was a scary day on the river.

But I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad day on the river.

Sometimes we get those idyllic spring or fall days, when it is not too hot, not too cold. There might be a slight breeze; in fact, there is usually a slight breeze out on the river. The sky is clear, the river is clear and the trout are biting. Sometimes the trees shine fluorescent green in the sun. Sometimes we not only catch fish, we see a lot of wildlife: antelope, deer, elk, eagles, hawks, and wild turkeys—not to mention the many songbirds. Sometimes, we don’t wader-up, and we spend the day in shorts and water sandals, and when we step into the river, it is cool and pleasant.

Those are good days on the river.

But other times we venture out when it is cold and windy, and the rain turns to sleet and the sleet turns to snow. We bundle up in thick layers and encase ourselves in rain gear. We cast against the wind and the gusts blow our flies off course and our line tangles into wind-knots. Our fingers, gloves or no gloves, get cold and stiff, and it becomes difficult to tie on a new fly. Our breath fogs out and we wonder what the heck are we doing out on the river when we should be at home tying flies or reading a good book and sipping hot toddies by the fire. But the trout don’t seem to care.

Yet even those are not bad days on the river.

There are days, whatever the season, when the trout are more elusive. There are days when the trout seem more like an abstract idea, just a mysterious shadow or a flash under the water. We might spend long periods between strikes. But even that is okay. There is always something to look at and appreciate. The mountains off to the east. The osprey overhead. The elk on the side of the hill. The rock formations along the edge of the river. And, sometimes, a boat or a raft full of ladies floats on by and they smile and giggle and wave and ask, “How’s the fishing?”

We wave back and smile and say, “Better now.”

And then there are days when the breeze is gentle, and our casts land nicely on the water and we set the hook when the trout strikes and we keep our lines tight. Of course, there are days when we catch very few fish, if any at all; yet, even those aren’t bad days. But there are days when we never lose a fly, and catch four trout on four consecutive casts. There are days when we catch twenty trout, or thirty. There are days when, well, we don’t want to brag, but we stay pretty much hooked up all day.

Is there such a thing as a bad day on the river?

I haven’t seen one yet.