of opportunities missed. From the Sioux City Journal via the guys at MoldyChum:
The girl, the trout and the bikini (or, How my career as a professional fly fisherman swam away)
The Yellowstone River hurtles out of Yellowstone National Park and cascades down a series of steep boulder studded runs and rapids before spilling out onto a gradual plain where it's currents slow and wind through a virtual pastureland paradise in the shadow of the Absaroka Range.
The place, in fact, is called Paradise Valley and if you are a fly fisherman and die and go to heaven you will spend eternity in a place such as this. Cutthroat trout reign supreme here with a sprinkling of rainbows. The big river's currents are strong and tumble relentlessly northward before crossing Interstate 90 near Livingston, Mont., and then turn east on a mission to the Missouri.
It was in the late 1970s that I found myself here for the first time, casting the dry fly and letting the willing cutthroat delude me into thinking I was better than I was.
I had visions of becoming a professional fly fisherman....