Return of the Alien, Part B
In the morning they headed toward the Brule to check out the water, which was very high. It was also very hot, especially once he had got into his neoprene waders. He was still hot, walking waist deep against the strong current that sweeps past Winneboujou landing. There was no sign of a tricho hatch that morning; nothing broke the water’s surface. He tied on a nymph and cast out the line, watching it collapse helplessly in wrinkled coils. It had been two years since he had waded a stream, and subsequent casts were hardly better than the first. ...



