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Transplants
From California
We headed
south and up the Bitterroot Valley on Highway 93, one of our favorite drives.
We topped out at Lost Trail Pass and descended into the Salmon River drainage.
About three
years ago I found a blog story mentioning large Golden Trout in a wilderness
lake in Idaho. The lake was not named in the story nor were any directions
given. Not even a hint on what part of the state. The author wished for it to
remain a secret alpine fly fishing spot - an elusive mystery. I worked on the
puzzle as a lunch break exercise for a couple of days and was confident I had it solved.
I will not
spoil the fun for you and will not supply any additional details. Can you trust me that this spot is even in Idaho?
To fish this
high cirque will require a backpack trip. But, if we started early enough we
could reach it with a long day hike and confirm the legend, make use of the one
day available for us on this trip, and see if my sleuthing was correct.
We reached a
dispersed camp spot around mid
afternoon. We set up camp and oriented ourselves to the terrain.
This was
wapiti, moose, bear, and possibly wolf habitat.
Wildland
fire smoke drifted into the valleys as evening came and obscured the landscape.
The Lady was
intent on spotting a moose on our long evening walk above the willow choked river course.
She did not
see a moose but was delighted with the displays of Prairie Smoke, also called
Old Man's Whiskers.
It was warm
even at our elevation. We slept with the door and all the windows open, a
quiet, still night.
We got our
desired early start. The first few miles were in timber. One set of large canid
tracks among the moose and wapiti tracks at a stream crossing excited us. Just past the crossing the Lady stopped
and watched uphill.
"It's a
mule deer," she told me. "I haven't spotted it yet. It is a mule deer
because it bounded up the hill. It didn't run. I felt it in the ground. Did
you? I didn't hear it."
She studied
the terrain above but never found the mule deer.
We gained elevation and the
vistas opened up.
Wildflowers
were in their prime. including Arrowleaf Balsamroot.
We tackled a
stream crossing. Both of us remarked that we had neglected to bring along
our light wading sandals. Oops. Barefoot in ice cold water shapes up a day nicely.
A half mile
or so beyond and we crossed again.
We continued
to climb. The alpine terrain swallowed us up. It was so wonderful to be back in
the high country.
We reached
the lake. It rested in a small cirque right at tree line.
We slowly
circled the lake and watched for golden trout - transplants from California's
high Sierra. Was the blog story true? Had I solved the puzzle? Were we at the
correct lake? We had nailed it.
We took a
break, relaxed, and soaked in the surroundings.
It was
midday. We decided to climb higher into the next basin. The story I had read
also mentioned a higher lake that held large cutthroat trout. We'd find out.
We explored
the cirque, walked the shore with eyes searching obsessively for cutthroat.
Joining us
in the search was a very raggedly looking juvenile bald eagle.
Not a single
trout was seen. It didn't matter much. This was stunningly beautiful. It felt
like home to us. We stretched out and watched the sky, listened to the sounds
and heartbeat of this place. The Lady put her see mores to work.
As the Lady
relaxed, I went looking for the legendary cutthroat trout one more time. Another success.
We kept and
eye on the building clouds but expected the storms to stay in the ranges to the
east.
We had a
long hike with a drop in elevation to return to camp.
Smoke was,
once again, creeping in and obscuring the vistas.
After our
final creek crossing, the Lady discovered she had left her boots on the
opposite side where she had removed them. Julie waded the ice cold water two
more times. She wanted her boots.
After the
ford of the creek, we still had a couple of hours back to camp. There was no
need to be in hurry. We knew we would come back to this place in our dreams now.
And, we would be busy planning a return with backpacks, fly rod, scud patterns,
the Lady's ghost net, and grasshopper patterns. How I love late summer high lakes
when the hoppers are about. Especially with the possibility of luring a
transplanted Californian up from the depths.
After
dinner, showers, and a full day of hiking, over 14 miles with a more than
respectable elevation gain and loss, we still enjoyed our long walk in the late
evening. The sky went to pastels as the shadows lengthened across the valley.
We woke
before dawn the next morning. We had miles to make today toward home and we had
a couple of hours of slow dirt before a return to pavement. The morning light
was outstanding.
We moved a
speed goat buck off the road and he obliged us by posing in the new sunlight.
A few turns
later and the Lady finally spotted her moose, right along the road, momma and
baby who slipped into the willows immediately.
We were
pounded by thunderstorms through most of eastern Nevada, a refreshing mix of
lightning flashes, huge raindrops, and the scent of rain washed sage. We
traveled east on highway 50 in the late afternoon and broke out of the storms
west of Eureka. We pulled into a favorite overnight spot - Hickison Petroglyph Site - to spend the night.
Nevada seems
never to disappoint with glorious evening light. We walked out to a favorite
overlook and took it all in. It was a fabulous last night of our trip.
Montana
& Idaho, they are already calling us back...............................
