There's a lot to be said about rainbows. But after two hours of working my favorite secret spot, not one had surfaced to taste my fly. Carol had moved downstream near a deep green hole where we once had skinny dipped on a harvest moon. Now she was cursing and slapping the water wit a custom tie. "We're going to starve out here!" she moaned. My chuckle was cut short with the announcement of a late afternoon thunder crack. A summer squall was moving fast through the upper pass and was about to drench or little expedition. The silvery clouds backlit against the surrendering day were both ominous and thrilling. Transfixed, I stopped fishing. My breath was stolen by a spectrum of a color as the squall turned from a grey invader to a colorful friend. I looked at Carol and smiled. That is when the Rainbow hit my line.

With fresh scallions and a garlic red pepper paste the fish was beyond our expectations. Carol blanched the greens and provided perfect white potatoes in a light cream. Happy Camper Chardonnay completed the evening. We toasted the rainbow and headed for the deep green hole for an evening dip.