Box Canyon of the Henry's Fork

Every year around Memorial Day, certain large aquatic bugs leave the sunken boulders they have called home and crawl toward the shore of my favorite river, -the Henry’s Fork of the Snake in Idaho. Once out of the water the nymphs cling to a nearby rock or branch, and from inside their armored shells they emerge as Salmon Flies:

For a trout, the start of this hatch means the start of a thanksgiving feast. For a week or so, Salmon Flies hover over the water to mate and then fall onto the river to lay their eggs. This hearty, easy meal entices the usually bottom-feeding big fish to come to the water's surface; and such fish are also the reason I've come to the water’s surface for the last three years in a row.

Last year plans with friends fell through, and my ever-patient wife decided she'd rather go with me than have me go alone, so off we went. There is no better way for her to tell me she loves me than to put up with pouring rains while trying to read...

...hail storms putting holes in the tent...

...and grizzly bears...

...all so that I can hook into a few six-pound rainbows. The trout in Box Canyon are not only fat, they're smart, and they use the river's swift current to their advantage. On more than one drive home I've found myself favoring my left arm for the steering wheel because of the soreness in the other "fish-fighting" arm.

On every trip so far I've been able to watch Osprey bring fish to their nest overlooking the canyon.

Here I am casting, wondering if Courtney has taken the picture yet. Turns out she was taking a video.

You can't see this in Nebraska!