It's nine thirty a.m., and Glenn and I drop Frank off at the "Orange Bridge", while we drive up to the almost-frozen-over Burmis Lake. Glenn takes the stretch immediately upstream from the "Silver Bridge", and I cut across the TU Lease to again revist some old familiar water. I manage a couple of nice fish, before realizing that my camera's memory card was full, so I circle back to the truck to replenish the digital film, and then fish back up behind where Glenn had been (and, as it turns out, behind a local fly fisher whom I have a chat with). I somehow get mesmerized with trying to catch a whitefish from a perfect pool full of them; yeah, not so much. By three p.m., we're all back at the truck seeking shelter from the up-to seventy-km wind blasts; Frank got a handful of trout, and Glenn got several handfuls, with some kewl video footage to boot. Frank loves his dry-fly fishing, and he was in fact able to land a trout on a dry this morning. I saw a few rises here and there, as did Glenn, but neither of us attempted the art of angling with the dry in late October. Glenn and I had seen a rise in the tiny local lake in the morning, so before we go home, we amble over to the now-ice-free acre of water, where Glenn fires out a little beadhead backswimmer pattern, and with expert direction from Frank spotting up on the cliffs, he hooks and lands a trout that is WAY too big for this piece of water; probably 'cause she's a brood hen put out to pasture?? It gets up to a tropical six degrees again today. The wind blows us into the Subway at Nanton by late afternoon...