Explorations with the Ski3pins: Montana & Idaho - July 2018

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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.