Fly Fishing Oregon & Idaho Wilderness – August 2023 – Part Three

 

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Please click here for – Part Two

 

The Tippet Snappers – White Cloud Peaks

 

We woke early the next morning to pack up camp and drive to the trailhead. Our low chairs were positioned for the best morning view a short distance from the truck. If possible, we always eat outside sitting in our chairs. We were eating our traditional morning goat meal with fresh fruit. The male red fox approached us from behind and trotted alongside me to my right, within arm reach for me. He was energetic and healthy. He did not appear ill or compromised. He turned and stopped right in front of me as I was spooning oatmeal into my mouth. It was very evident the fox knew I was eating and the fox wanted his portion. He was intent and I instantly felt like a grizzly on a kill when the coyotes and foxes show up and demand they get some too. The Lady stomped her feet and told him to “Get out of here!” The fox backed off but stayed in the area, circled the truck three times, and investigated around our camp. He then moved into the meadow area and stirred up all the brown squirrels, moving quickly and darting about. He tried once more to get me to back off from my oatmeal without success before leaving.

 

Always assume that critters are investigating your campsite. Never leave anything – especially food or items associated with food – unattended for even a short period of time. We are constantly horrified at what we see others do at campgrounds, ice chests left out, bottles, utensils, and food strewn on tables unattended. And people wonder why there are problem animals about?

 

With the truck safely parked at the trailhead – we always circle the trailhead on foot and look for evidence of problem animals or humans getting into vehicles or other issues – we were ready to head out on the trail.

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve always helped Julie by lifting her pack so she can easily get into the harness and hip belt. It is usually announced thusly, “Time to saddle up little mule!” Years ago, on a backpack trip, my brother Tom penned this limerick –

Monte calls her his little mule

She burns trail mix and freeze dried for fuel

No matter a hike

Or her fast mountain bike

She always prances and sashays so cool

 

 

We took a break around 11 am at a trail intersection.

 

 

 

 

 

Our last backpack trip was in 2018. These packs were new on that trip – our third set of full-size backpacks. We do not consider them anywhere near “broke in” yet. Yup, we use this stuff enough to wear out equipment. We were also very aware this was the Lady’s first backpack trip since two total knee replacements. We kept her pack weight down to around 30 lbs. I carried all the food, the tent, stove, fuel, and cooking kit and my pack was around 50 lbs. So, this was a bit of an experiment. Could the 66-year-old woman with two new knees and her 30-pound pack and the 70-year-old man carrying a 50-pound pack still backpack into a place they carried their loads into 30 years ago?

 

One thing was different from 30 years ago. In 2018 the Bible Back Fire burned the area from the last photo up to the ridgetop overlooking the entrance into Chamberlain Lakes Basin. Several miles of trail – the climb – are now charred open country through the skeletons of burned trees. It was in this area where we crossed the boundary and entered the Cecil D. Andrus – White Clouds Wilderness. Around a mile after entering the Wilderness we reached the high point of the hike, the ridge top at 9800 feet. Here’s a panorama to the east with Castle Peak in the center. Chamberlain Basin is tucked back into the obvious notch on the left.

 

 

 

 

 

We took an off-trail route to the western side of the first lake. We do not camp in the overused, hammered, campsites that develop where the trail first meets a lake. The animals are habituated to the presence of humans and what they bring along. Also, most people’s waste disposal is not up to par and it can tend to be awful around heavily used spots.

 

If we have a choice, we prefer a campsite facing the east for first light, in the evening this puts the sun at your back lighting up what is in front of you. We look for a site upslope and, as much as possible, out of view. When we leave, we will erase all evidence we can of ever being there. We set up in a small opening on the edge of the timber.

 

 

 

 

 

There was a small cove below us where we made our meals.

 

 

 

 

 

Our food – in bear resistant canisters – and our cooking gear were secreted in a place uphill and away from our tent.

 

After dinner we enjoyed how the evening light and the scattered cloud cover played across the landscape. We also cannot sit around. Evening is a time for wandering and exploration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We know this area well. This would be a basecamp for us. We were here to fly fish the lakes in the upper basin. We started up the use trail that climbs up the second lake. We were alone up here. Only one group was camped at the lower lake across from our camp - in the Hammered Hilton.

 

 

 

 

 

Landscape photos are scant for this day as we concentrated on fishing. It was very much like what we experienced at the unnamed lake, technical and with cautious, wary cutthroat trout. The trout were beautiful and feisty.

 

 

 

 

 

We had a remarkable day working together sight fishing and targeting the trout we wanted to try for. It was also a warm day in the high country. That meant breaks for skinny dipping. Fly fishing and skinny dipping in high alpine terrain, life does not get any better.

 

We spent most of the day at the third lake then moved down to the second.

 

 

 

 

 

Cutthroat are noted for being a little lethargic in putting up a fight. We were in for a surprise. As we were midway along the shore of the second lake a cutt took my fly and turned on the afterburner. Line screamed off of my reel as the trout raced to mid lake. Three times I got the 15 incher close in to the net. It again took off like a rocket putting a deep bend in the fly rod. It was remarkable. Even more remarkable was the next four trout were exactly the same – savage demons ripping the fly line across the lake’s surface. One, on its third trip out to deep water, snapped my 5x tippet like a rifle shot. The fly line flew back and wrapped around my head. What a rodeo!

 

We headed back down the basin as clouds built in the late afternoon. It was sprinkling when we reached camp. We took a quick dip in the cold water and found a spot back in the trees to sit out of the rain.

 

After dinner, it cleared overhead as the storm moved to the southeast.

 

 

 

 

 

We, again, wandered in the evening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I want to go to the high lake today,” the Lady stated the next morning. The first lake sits at a little over 9100 feet. The high lake (#4) sits just under 9900 feet. The Idaho Fishing Planner Website states that arctic grayling are in the high lake. On previous trips to Idaho, we’ve learned to question the accuracy of the information. But, if grayling were there, it could be an added bonus.

 

We hiked up to the second lake and began the climb.

 

 

 

 

 

The slope is capped with steep granite that made for easy scrambling.

 

 

 

 

 

We both agree that lake 4 is the most spectacular of the Chamberlain Basin lakes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a snack break the hunt was on. We were looking for fish in the crystal-clear water. Nothing was seen but we continued. Finally, we spotted a small (5 – 6 inches) cutthroat. I do not believe there are arctic grayling and there is only a tiny population of small cutthroat trout. We were not disappointed at all. Visiting this place was well worth the effort.

 

Rock Fringe (Epilobium Obcordatum)

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, the Lady wanted to go higher. The topo map indicated there were two small tarns higher above.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New mountain goat tracks were abundant but we never saw the goats.

 

 

 

 

 

We were in no hurry. The clouds were looking good. We stopped and sat and took in the splendor all around us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We started down mid afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

We returned to the third lake as I had an idea. The day before we had fished over two large cutthroat. One had taken my fly but very quickly snapped the tippet with a hard run. We had watched them long enough that I still had their cruising patterns memorized. Perhaps I could place a fly from a different angle and get results?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was the most beautiful trout of the trip, an exceptionally colored cutthroat.

 

We celebrated with a skinny dip, two old farts having a marvelous time in the mountains. We slowly moved along the second lake and caught and released several more fish.

 

The experiment’s results – yes, a 66-year-old woman and 70-year-old man can still carry backpacks, hike, scramble, fish, and do whatever their hearts desire in the high mountains. Just keep it up and never stop. We are not going down without a fight.

 

We packed up the next morning and restored our small campsite to no sign of our use. We stopped for a photo at the top of the ridge and entered the burn.

 

 

 

 

 

At the five-mile mark we stopped for a break along Washington Lake Creek. Starting out from our camp we had a quarter mile cross country hike through heavy timber with lots of deadfall. Stepping over one log the Lady hit a dead branch and put a stob into her shin. She pulled a ¾ inch piece of branch out of her leg and slopped up blood with a paper towel. She folded the paper towel into a square, put it over the wound, and pulled her boot sock over it to hold it in place, and announced, “It will be fine.” At our five mile break she noticed fresh blood dripping down the outside of her gaiter. “Why is this still bleeding?” she asked as she pulled the makeshift bandage off. “This is why,” she noted as she pulled about an inch long piece of branch out of her leg. “It is break time now and we are thoroughly cleaning that wound and removing any remaining timber in your leg. No is not an acceptable response.” I responded. We got to work. I knew she wanted to say, “It’s only a flesh wound.” She did not want us to pull out the first aid kit. “We’ll do that at the truck. My sock works great for holding a clean paper towel in place as I hike.”

 

With a nine-mile hike out, we reached the trailhead a little before 1 pm. Here we pulled out the first aid kit and thoroughly cleaned the wound again. “Where’s the bottle of Purell?” I asked. “You are thoroughly drenching that wound with Purell. Want a stick to bite on?” After that came antibiotic ointment, two 2x3 gauze pads, and bandage tape.  A darn good job, if I do say so myself.

Note: the wound showed no signs of infection. We changed dressings often. It closed up and is healing fine. Only a flesh wound.

 

We left the trailhead at 1:30 pm and began the drive out to a close encounter with civilization.

 

Our adventure continues. Please click here for Part Four