I have a cautionary tale I’d like to share. Forgive me for not painting a more eloquent picture, but everything is still a bit too real, and raw, to gussy it up with pretty writing.
Yesterday was January 2. It was also very nearly the last day of my life.
I drove down to the Missouri River on New Years Day - Wednesday, the 1st - hoping to take advantage of the 40 degree weather and test a bunch of gear for our annual Sporting Classic fly fishing equipment review. I spent most of Wednesday afternoon on the river, and despite the cold water temps - it was in the 33 to 34 degree range - I had solid fishing and the opportunity to check out a number of new rods, reels, waders, jackets, packs, etc.
For those of you who don’t know the Missouri, it’s a big, wide, open river near the tiny Montana towns of Wolf Creek and Craig. It deserves respect - as does any big river - but it’s not the kind of water that typically gets people in trouble. Yesterday was a little different.