One day we fished a medium-sized river flowing through potato and wheat fields. Once Yvon had Skyla rolling on her own with the tenkara rod (no reel), he helped Weston wade into position to try the same techniques with a regular fly rod. Soft-hackle wet fly, downstream swing, small twitches along the way and … fish on! I think each kid must have landed at least 20 fish in an hour, with lots of laughter, high fives and huge smiles. After a fantastic dinner at Craig and Jackie’s, we wadered up and hit the 50-mile riffle ’til dark. That’s a rhythm I could really get used to.
Every day was a new adventure. One day we drove down into Idaho and fished a gorgeous river near Ashton. On another, Yvon, the kids and I started fishing the Gallatin up high in the park where it’s a meandering meadow creek, then followed it north to where it turned into a medium-sized freestone river. And on yet another day, we took a break from fishing and headed into The Park to brave the circus around Old Faithful (it was 10 minutes late, crowded and still spectacular) and look for wildlife (spotted bison, elk, bighorn sheep and a moose). Of course, we did have to stop for a few casts on the Gibbon and Firehole on the way back.
But wherever we went, we ended each day back “home” on the Madison. We often fished until almost pitch-black night, with bats swooping through the air, and that spooky feeling—a tingly mix of excitement and dread—that comes from being in a river in the dark.

One day we hiked around in The Park, searching for high-elevation brookies between waterfalls and in creeks meandering through glowing meadows. Photo: Dylan Tomine

Skyla watching and waiting for the evening hatch to start back on the Madison. I loved sitting with her in the warm evening light, feet dangling in the water, listening to the excitement in her voice when she spotted a rise. Photo: Dylan Tomine.

Weston and Craig with a fat Madison River rainbow that chased down a big waking dry fly. I think the look on Weston’s face says it all. Photo: Dylan Tomine