In Idaho: The hatch of the Green Drake

Up ahead, the Snake River spooled around a long, grassy bend and then out of sight. From where Bing Lempke stood, waist-deep in the jade current, he had an uninterrupted view of several hundred yards of open water. His eyes had settled there, sweeping across the riffles and eddies for the dimple of a rising fish.

Suddenly Lempke broke out of his semicrouch into an exaggerated stride against the current, which translates roughly into a 440 run in JellO. As his body moved upstream, he worked the rod in his hand in metronomic...

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