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In 1998 we
had an fantastic time fly fishing and catching cutthroat trout in the long basin that
holds the five Chamberlain Lakes. It was our best fishing of that trip.
The
cutthroat of Chamberlain Basin
their breed,
they'll not be disgracing
they're
strong and they're stout
they'll
fight you all out
they're
really extraordinarily amazing!
After
leaving Chamberlain Basin nestled up against the soaring southwest flank of
Castle Peak, we wanted to spend one last night in the Wilderness. Our planned
overnight spot changed after we chatted with a wilderness ranger on the trail.
He told us about Kimmer Lake and legendary cutthroat trout. There was no trail
to KImmer Lake. It takes work to get there. The ranger pointed out a blue dot
on our 7.5 minute topo. "This is it," he said. "It is not named
on the map. We call it Kimmer."
After
hearing a story like this we made the effort. You bet we did. We climbed into the high basin holding Kimmer Lake and made camp. Was the story true? Circling the lake, studying it,
that afternoon and evening, I saw only one trout, cruising deep. It was as big
as my thigh. The Big Guy and Fastshot had similar experiences. We fished hard.
Not a single take. To catch one of these trout would take as much work as it
took to reach this wonderful place. I was up early the next morning. With my
coffee mug and fly rod, I moved slowly and watched. A large caddis fly landed
on the surface. Although a trout did not rise to take it, it gave me hope. You
have to be an optimist to fly fish. I tied on a caddis dry of matching size. It
took a long cast to match where the caddis was. Thank god for a still morning.
I waited. I waited. Nothing rose except the need to off load some of that
morning coffee and silence my complaining bladder. I resisted as long as I
could then laid my fly rod down and dashed a short distance away while
struggling to get my pants open. That sigh of deep relief hit the same time the
surface of the lake exploded. My fly was gone and my fly was open. I suddenly
realized I had one free hand and hobbled fast over to my fly rod - you have to
have determination to fly fish - but the
trout and my 5x tippet were gone.
We worked on limericks about Kimmer Lake on our hike out to the Fourth of July Road
trailhead. The Lady hiked with pencil and paper ready. The Lady, our scribe
wrote them down. These we both remember as Cousin Keith's work:
In Kimmer
Lake the Leviathan swim
trout with
shoulders you'd see in a gym
they look so
mysterious
and deadly
serious
I doubt
they'd take my fly on a whim
A variation
on the limerick form -
In Kimmer
Lake the Leviathan travel
barely
visible just above the gravel
I'd like to
hook one to see what would happen
I'll bet my
leader would soon be snappin'
But if by
luck the line should hold
and I would
land a trout so bold
I'd gaze in
awe
at its
mighty maw
then turn
him back to his watery fold
As you can
imagine, I have dreamed about Kimmer Lake. Today we would return.
The morning
was perfect.
We gobbled
up breakfast, put our gear together and were on our way. Two and half miles in
we turned off trail reading both the topo and terrain for a way that would go.
The landscape is a wonderful mix of forest, meadows, lake, and soaring
mountainside.
Kimmer Lake
was much larger than we both remembered. But we had arrived.
As before,
large caddis flies were about.
Not a fish was seen. This was good as it told us the lake had not been
replanted recently. As before there were no small trout. If there were trout
here, they were few and maybe even legendary in size. I had hope.
The Lady
studied the map as I put my rod together and contemplated strategy.
I started in
fly fishing..........................I tried everything - nymphs, scuds, different depths, emergers, dry flies. I was determined. I
knew there was one magic cutthroat, the Leviathan, in this lake. I had hope. I
just needed to figure it out, get the right combination, perfect presentation, get
the planets to align. Just one cutthroat caught and released at Kimmer would
make the trip.
Several
hours later, it was time for a break. We explored the outlet and its impressive
drop out of the hanging glacial valley.
The
afternoon upslope wind had really picked up.
The break
was over. I went back to fly fishing. I have a tactic I like to use in the wind
at an alpine lake. I have brought up more than one respectable trout using this
method. I tied on a large caddis pattern. I let the wind carry it out over the
water as I held my fly rod high and let out line. When the gust of wind broke
the fly slammed down on the surface. I held my rod at just the right level
letting the caddis fly jump up and down on the surface again and again.
"Come on Leviathan, take it! You know you want it!" I shouted into
the wind. "Come and get it big boy!"
No trout
rose to the fly.
It was time
to head out. My fishing time at Kimmer Lake was over. That monster trout is
still in there. I know it. We will be back.
I suggested
to the Lady that we consult the map and plot a cross country route out of
this basin. The map showed a potential route. We climbed high out of the cirque
and looked back down on Kimmer Lake; one last look.
The vistas
were grand as we hit the high point.
Far to the
north was one of our favorite summits, David O. Lee Peak.
D. O. Lee, what a great
mountain! One of the classic White Cloud peaks. We have stood on its summit
twice. Here's a photo from our last trip up back in 2009.
The Lady led
the way. She was in heaven. "I love this!" she said over and over.
She still noticed
every wildflower. "These are the brightest red paintbrush I think we've
seen," she said. "Take a picture!"
We climbed
up onto the last high bench.
The vista
now opened out to the west to the crest of the Sawtooth Range.
The Lady
spotted a point below us to stand on top of.
There were a
couple of rugged spot along our cross country route. All of it was enjoyable.
We climbed
down and intersected the hiking trail and now it was just a couple of miles
back to camp.
We poured
water over each other for our afternoon showers and put together a nice salad
for supper. It was again time to wander about the area.
Idaho has to
be the hot spot for Whorled Penstemon.
More deer
showed up for the evening get together, including this one, "Silly".
The last
light of the sun was on the ridge above............................
.........................and
signaled our last night in the White Clouds and brought to mind another of our
limericks.
The White
Clouds are really quite awesome
the
wildflowers and vistas all blossom
the beauty
up high
is kissed by
the sky
how lucky we
are just to touch them
We called
our camper "the deer blind" this night. The whole cast of characters
surrounded our truck. We lay on our bellies on the bed and watched out the
screen windows as we fell asleep. "Mom"," Skiddery",
"The Nubs" (two large spike bucks), "Big Fella" (a buck
with a magnificent 4 x 3 rack), and "Silly" were content to share
their space with the voices and laughter coming from inside the white box. The
Lady had named them all. She also named this spot, "Lucky Camp".
The truck
was ready the next morning. We headed back out Fourth of July Road and on to
our next adventure.
We would
find a place to base camp for several days of exploring the Sawtooth Range.
Our
adventure continues in Part Three. Please Click Here
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