Thursday, August 27, 2009

Fly fishing on the Provo River

B. is completely "hooked" on fly fishing now. He has actually caught a couple of fish, and is raring to go fishing every chance he gets.

I'm up for it too...

So last Sunday we drove 30 minutes from our house to the Provo River.
I am still in amazement that we live so close to so many beautiful places!

Just before we headed out B. got clobbered by doors that were stacked against the wall in the garage falling down. I thought he would decide against the trip...I was wrong. The deep scrape and bruises were dabbed with an anti-bacterial medication, he popped a pain med, and then jumped into the car.

There are now a few bloody smears on the front seat of my new car.
That makes my car look tougher. More like an outdoor woman's car.
Yeah. I like that...

It was a great day for fly fishing. Every few yards up and down the river there were anglers wading in, or casting from the shoreline.
A brisk breeze cooled us against the summery warmth, and an occasional rain drop or two escaped the heavy clouds overhead.

Perfect weather, in my opinion.

Overhead swallows were swooping about. I counted over thirty at one point.
(If you enlarge the previous pictures, you will see swallows in those pictures too.)

Below, clouds of grasshoppers flittered ahead of our every step. At first I thought they were butterflies, as their wings were broad and fluttery.

Not a really "buttery" kind of day, but I did manage to photograph a skipper.
This one was sipping nectar from a clover blossom. Did I mention the air was filled with clover scent? Pink, red and white clover bloomed around the edge of the river.

Not a lot of flowers though. I thought this looked like wild mustard, but it wasn't.

I took my turn at angling.

I did get a bite, and a fight before I lost the fish. Yes Dad, I did remember to set the hook before I played it in. It was a pretty tiny hook, and we were seeing pretty big fish being lifted out by others around us.
I turned the rod back to over to B. and went exploring. The side stream lets were making such a lovely babbling sound.

(His waders arrived a few days after this trip. Here he was wading in the icy water bare-legged, claiming it made his scraped and bruised leg feel much, much better....)

Seriously...isn't this restful beauty?

The rock stacking trend up north got a try down here at one point as I sat by the river. I decided my stack should look like a be-hatted woman. Or maybe a hippo. Hat, head and torso, with leaves serving as feather trim.

Back to wandering around.

An equestrian clicked by on her spotted pony. It seemed a natural part of the scenery.

Every few moments the light changed on the surrounding hills as the clouds hid and re-revealed the sun.
There is a scientific name for this effect of streaked light. Maybe I'll remember to look it up later. As a child I always thought of such light as God and Angels peeking down.

Instead of flowers, there was an abundance of interesting grasses to photograph.

(Oh gee, now I guess I will also need to get a grass identification book....)

Somehow even this prickly set of buds looked lovely to me. Are they cockle burrs, or a form of thistle? There were quite a few amethyst thistles in bloom, and thistle weed fluff floating about as well.

The distant bridge over the river carries car traffic. We really are not that far from civilization at all.

It was getting late...B. casted just a few more times before we headed back to our car.
Next to our car was a lovely field of billowing grasses, in early fall tones that made me want to take some time to paint. I find the click of my camera is letting me "hold that thought" nicely against time constraints. Someday I will have so many images to chose from should I decide to wield my paintbrushes again.

Well, we once again left the stream without any fish in the creel. We did see a couple of fish caught by others. Fly fishing is an art form, and requires much study to learn to correctly read the current insect hatch, how to cast each kind of fly, and how to read the river.

If I was really hungry for food, I probably wouldn't be fly fishing. I probably be wetting a line and cheese ball covered hook for bait.

Speaking of cheese....
(We stopped by and visited him right after fishing. He now weighs three pounds. Most of that weight is fluff and purr. Can't get enough of my grandkitty!)


Amy Letinsky said...

And what does Tiggie think of another Iraqi cat in your lives?

Love the fishing pics. Makes me want to head to the river to catch some salmon. Sadly, nothing is running right now. But in a couple weeks, we're supposed to get a big run that I won't want to miss.

Tiggie FOC said...

Amy: Cheeto is orange. Orange is good.

Maybe his flat nose will grow out when he gets older. I think he is just in disguise right now to keep an eye on the gray terrorist over at Jeff's place.

Trusting the orangeness!

Tiggie, FOC

Kate said...

Beautimous!!! Hey, please send some of those swallows over here to eat the MOSQUITOS. Thank you very much. Ouch! Smack! Ewwwwwww.
K Q:-)

Sara said...

Such beautiful country....very Old West I think. That grasshopper definitely has his eye on you! Love the rock sculpture - be-hatted indeed.

Before blogging would you have created a little rock stacking sculpture? I think blogging has really changed our outlook and live in ways we may not even realize. All this sharing is really good for us.

Anonymous said...

Seeing your lovely river pictures has cooled me down a bit.I am wilting at 90degrees in La Jolla!
I do hope you will have time now to get back to picture painting. You have done enough house painting for now.
Dad looks forward to seeing pictures of the fish that B. has caught! Love you, Mom

Lovella ♥ said...

The fishing pics look so restful .. .I can hear the grasses in the breezes and the swat of the line against the water. I love that sound. . .especially when it is done perfectly rythmic .. .

OH. . and your grandkitty is looking very cute.

Good to see that our inukshuks have little friends down south.

Vicki said...

I love your photos! Everything looks so clear and clean and fresh and... like someplace I'd like to be!

How about crepuscular rays? Growing up, my mother always said the sun was drawing up water and that it indicated rain coming. I've also heard the sun's streaks of light called "fingers of God" and "Jacob's ladder." It all sounds more romantic than crepuscular rays, doesn't it?

Oh, Cheeto...such a little cutie!

Kathy said...

So beautiful!!! Good luck with that fishing.

PS My granddaughter, Sarah, and I were talking about my mom on her vacation, as you put it. We tried to guess what she might have done today, since we could not peak. I guessed she went for a walk in a meadow of flowers and that nothing hurt. Sarah guessed that she went swimming. Thanks for your notes Jill.


Jan (Sara's cousin) said...

I've also heard "God's Fingers" to give a joyful explanation of the streaks of sunlight coming through the clouds. I have told my daughter that God is reaching through to take care of us......