Fly fishing has yet to teach me how to bend the weather through sheer force of will. So in the meantime, I guess I'll have to continue to roll with the punches.
Made it up to Taos this AM, only to find the plateau was getting hammered by snow. Found myself in a growing conga line heading north out of town at 25mph, on icy two track, still thirty miles shy of today's planned venue. Decided to bag it, having a good idea of what awaited me in the Gorge, no sense adding injury to today's insult.
Back at home, the storm was already breaking up, leaving moderate temps in its wake, bout time. Whipped out 8 miles on the South Foothills- nice and tacky!- before settling in to watch USA v Canada in hockey. Dam, thought we had it! Congrats to Canada, they really looked the better team.
As for my cursed fishing, here's hoping third time's the charm, I'll try again next weekend.