I have been fishing the Yakima River since 1978. So when I tell you that the 2008 winter and the 2009 spring fishing were the worst seasons on the river in 30 years, you will understand that I am not Johnny- come- lately whining about a bad month or two.   It all began last winter when the temperatures plunged, causing the Yakima to ice over and produce massive ice dams that forced the water over its banks, flooding the areas next to the river.  I’m pretty sure that some of my trout found themselves eye to eye with hungry coyotes, trying to figure out how they got stuck out in the sagebrush.

            How could this happen in the Golden Age of Global Warming? (Or is this the Silver age of Global Cooling, I’m so confused)

            Then late this spring the Cascades were dumped on with huge snowfalls, well, as soon as the ice melted out of the River, the runoff began. This was spring runoff on steroids; I think we had about two weeks of decent conditions in April, it’s now the middle of June. I thought that Global Warming was going to turn Central Washington into a little Arabia. How can this be?

             I saw an actress doing a TV spot on the plight of Polar Bears and how they are losing there range because humans are burning fossil fuels, and if we would just send some money it will all be OK for the bears… hug hug. (As my old Dad the Chief would say “Just cause you can sing and dance doesn’t make you smart.”) 

            So here we are, Troutbums, with too much time and water on our hands. What to do. Well, we have already tried ballroom dancing so that was out and, besides I have been banned for life from the ballroom.  I put in a call to Monte the Juggler to see if he had any spots open in his juggling class but his number was disconnected.

            In our desire to see some clear moving water with a chance at catching a fish, we took a trip to the Bitteroot River in Montana. Chris Bolm, Jim Hopkins  and I loaded up the boat and headed east. The Bitterroot is a nasty little river full of downed cottonwood snags; the week after we left, an experienced Bitteroot guide drowned in one of those piles of brush. Needless to say all I got was large dose of high anxiety rowing the boat. Trust me I don’t need life threatening high adventure anymore.

            What we needed was a hobby, but when you own a house or two, do you really need to work at finding something to do?  Chris and I patched, painted, repaired, did some plumbing and fixed all the small, annoying jobs we had put off around the old homesteads. Not that satisfying really, but at least we were burning up some non- productive fishing time, and our wives were amazed.

             Here’s a tip: when you can’t fish; work on your marriage, the river won’t be screwed up forever.

            One sunny May afternoon I got a call from Chris, he said he had something new to show me. I figured it was some fly tying stuff or another home project. When I walked into the kitchen, there he was standing over a collection of liquor bottles wearing a white dinner jacket mixing something called an Old Fashioned.” Care for an Old Fashioned”, he says.

            You bet, what ever it is I’m in.

             So this is one Troutbums new hobby: Cocktail-oligist. He is making all the famous cocktails from the 40’s and 50’s; like a tasty nostalgic trip through a much different time.  He looks a little like a Swedish Rick from the movie Casablanca in that white jacket, and from the back he reminds me of one of those polar bears that will soon be living in my backyard.