Cruel

The spring fishing that I am used to on the Clark Fork River in Montana has not materialized. A substantial snowpack and a very wet spring has played the cruelest of jokes on me. The river in it's pre-runoff usaully fishes well with a big stone fly hatch. The stone fly in question is a called a Skwala and it a is big, hairy beautiful beast and the fish love them. Alas, the aformentioned bug is hatching and the hatch is prolific. But, and this is a big ass but, the river is a gigantic frothing dirt clod with visibility in about the two inch range. Hence, the bugs are there but the large trout cannot see the damn things and as a result cannot eat the damn things. And now the weather has got quite warm and the real runoff begins, which means the river will be blown out for all of May. Oh sure, you could find some back eddies to float some bottom hugging junk like San Juan Worms and other disgusting "flies" but the fishing would be slow and sleazy and you would look back on it with disgust. To top this all off, the rivers in Idaho are closed in May for the cutthroat spawn and so we are at point when it may become necessary to pitch a fit of rage and futility. Oh the cycles of nature are quite interesting and when they mess up my own personal enjoyment they become annoying. In a perfect world the complicated workings of nature would revolve around me and my need to fly fish. The rivers would be there for me, the trout would be mine to catch and the beer would flow like wine. It is not too much to ask after toughing out another Northwest winter. Nature is cruel, cruel indeed.