We were up bright and early again. We checked on the Henry's: still in the throes of high flows. That was OK. We were in a hurry to get back to the Teton.
It was a real multiple use kind of day on the river. There were many floaters coming through in flotillas.
And then there was a moose. John had moved upstream around a bend, thinking of exploring up river a ways, and when I followed him, there he was standing calmly next to it.
We decided to postpone our exploring. We fished out the morning, catching small trout, then took a break for lunch. The weather had changed, and the fishing was slower than the day before. John got out his trusty gps and found another access point nearby. We decided to go look at it.
We followed a long rutted dirt road to a nice looking place on the river. We discovered it was posted downstream. I fished a little upstream, swinging a beadhead nymph, and caught only whitefish.
It was a great place to watch the weather roll over the Tetons.
But we headed back to familiar waters. I think both of us were remembering John's big trout of the evening before, and both of us wanted another shot.
I spent some time searching the bank John had fished when he hooked up with the fish of a lifetime. He had pulled him out of one of those alcoves. Conditions were different today, though, and rises were scarce.
John gave it a go, too.
We fished right into evening waiting for a hatch like we had enjoyed yesterday, but it never came.