Small Streams

This years fishing trip was a little bit different than years past. In fact it was the complete opposite from last years crystal clear water. We all met at the Lancasters house (7:30 am) to get stuff packed up and be out the door. But we must have been dreaming, because we didn’t get on the road until 10:30am. It was so nice to finally get on the road. I don’t know what it is exactly, but once you finally shut the Jeep door and drive away there is a calmness that comes over me, as if I have just left one crazy life behind and starting a new one. These trips are more about the journey than the actual fishing that we go for. The packing, the preparation, driving, anticipation, stories, camping, golfing, seeing grandpa and grandma, and just spending time in the great outdoors is what makes these trips so special and valued every year. We made one short shop in Evanstan at the local Wal-Mart like we always do, to pick up some food, fishing tackle and the expensive WY fishing licence that seems to take years fill out. By 2 pm we had arrived at the old CCC camp along side the river where we had camped last year. (For the sake of the little streams and the little pressure it can handle. I won’t give out any names to its location) We set up camp, which involves setting up the castle of all tents. Its a 21′ by 15 ‘ wall tent that my father-in-law picked up last year and is so nice to have. Its like having a mini cabin to stay in. I didn’t hurry to the river like I am accustom to doing. Instead I hung out got the Jeep unpacked and helped set up camp. As I glanced over to the raging river of chocolate milk below me I couldn’t help but think we really messed up on the timing this year. I can remember thinking to myself I hope we can at least catch something. (with not much confidence) After many different thoughts running through my head like determining where to fish and what would be best. I decided to string up both rods and give it a chance. As I started tying on my flies I started thinking this was going to be awesome and the challenge I was looking for. As I walked along the trail I was looking for one thing, a pocket of slow water. My first hole I stopped at didn’t produce with San Juan’s and a Crystal bugger. I decided to move up stream in hopes of a better hole and that’s exactly what I found. It was the perfect Beaver Pond that made a nice slow moving back eddy. My first cast with my double streamer outfit (Crystal and Golden) produced a hit. Then the second cast, I stripped once nice and slow and then I felt some tension, hook set fish on! It was a nice native Cutthroat trout and a confidence builder for myself. 2 casts later I found myself with 3 fish in the net and a nice dinner to bring back to the crew. Aaron and Ty worked their way up to the hole and we all fished together having a great time. Aaron landed two more Cuts and Ty and I landed 4 more to finish up the first night of fishing. Later that night I fillet the trout, ate some tasty hot dogs and we sat around the campfire telling and listening to stories of past childhood pranks, Andrew’s Taiwan adventures and past fishing trips. The next morning didn’t bring much change to the the raging river. I guess that’s the price you pay for having a good snow year. (Runoff into July) The crew decided to venture to another close by stream that was said to be running nice and clear. We got to the river around 7:30 am and could only fish until 9:30 am due to our tee time. We stayed about a half mile from the trail head where I imagine most people due their fishing. We only caught a couple fish each, but the clear little stream did allow me to fish dry flies and raise a nice little native. Next was the Red Barron which was just what I needed to hold me over as I attempted to play 9 holes of Golf. I will have to admit It was a lot of fun. Too bad Aaron, Curtis and I, lost to Dan, Bernell and Andrew and had to buy them shakes as we stopped by the Barron for some dinner. We stopped by the Lancaster farm on the way back to camp to see the grandparents. I always enjoy spending time with such great people that seem to have this complicated world all figured out. I love hearing their stories about past fishing and hunting trips and sharing with grandpa my secret flies and watching his reaction. They are the reason why small town life is so appealing to me. Its a simple, but hard working life style where you come to love the people and land around you. One day at a time. When we got back to camp I wasn’t messing around. I strung up my fly rod and headed straight for the meadow. I found a couple side pockets and some hungry trout. But when I finally decided to meet up with Aaron and Andrew at the Big Beaver Pond. That’s when things started looking a little brighter. As I came around the corner Andrew had just hooked up with his first fish of the trip which ended up being the largest also. We all fished the big deep hole and all had a great time hooking into the little natives. As we walked back I was once again reminded of why I am so passionate about fishing. It’s about the places fly fishing takes you, the adventure of the unknown and the people that you meet along the way. As Andrew and I walked back to camp well past dark. We were meet by the welcoming smell of peach cobbler. I loaded up the plate said my goodbyes and was on the road home. Back to my life that I had left behind. Now I have had some pretty bad drive homes but this one was pretty dang hard. I think I was seeing double vision by the time I pulled into PG at 2 am.