Idaho, Montana, and Oregon – August 2022 – Part Three

please remember you can click on a photo to see a larger version & highlighted text are links to additional information

Please click here for – Part Two

 

Back to Shangri La

 

It was an easy decision as we asked each other, “Where shall we go?” The world was full of options but the pull of that high lake we had just discovered in the White Clouds was overwhelming. “Let’s head back up there,” I said, “And spend a long day fishing now that we know the area and fish.” The Lady readily agreed.

 

Our approach was different this time as we made use of a steep 4x4 road to get us closer. It also assured we’d, most likely, be alone. We set up camp as the road’s end.

 

 

 

A pair of twin mule deer fawns were curious about us as we sat in the evening eating dinner. We never saw Mom deer. The two approached within 15 feet of me. Their faces spoke of curiosity. They hung out with us for close to an hour.

 

 

 

Since Phyllis Lake, a bit distant from our location, sat in a high basin aligned with the setting sun, we walked up to Phyllis to spend the evening. The lake surface was a mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a truly spectacular evening as we slowly circled the lake.

 

 

 

We stayed until last light and hiked back to our camp in the dark.

 

 

 

 

 

We got an early start the next morning. The sun was just cresting the ridge lines as we climbed past the lower lake.

 

 

 

First light hit us on the climb as we went up.

 

 

 

 

 

In a short time, we were back at our new Shangri La.

 

 

 

We made sure our “fish eyes” were fully functioning. It was time to get fly fishing.

 

 

 

As much as possible, we’d be sight fishing for large trout. The Lady stayed above to have a good view into the depths. My bird dog was ready and I soon heard, “Catch that one!” The Lady was ready with her net. Performance anxiety was never an issue.

 

 

 

Although, as this tale unfolds, you will see many photos of beautiful cutthroat brought to the net, this was not easy fishing. This was technical fly fishing. The water was crystal clear and the big cuts cruised close to shore. If I made a mistake, it was obvious and a general murmur of laughter was shared by the trout. I could hear them laughing. If everything was prefect, that did not assure the trout would take the fly. There were many refusals. But this was just the kind of challenging fishing we had returned for.

 

Bottom line, without further ado, this was an exquisite day of Wilderness fly fishing. One that dreams are made of.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All fish were heavy and fat. This lake has more than ample food to grow big cutthroats.

 

 

 

We slowly circled the lake three times. We took note of the trout behavior and movements as we honed our skills.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point the Lady called out from her observation post, “Here comes one from down deep.”

Instantly a trout torpedoed out of the water, the fly in its mouth, and splashed back down after its flight.

“I suspect you meant this one?” I chuckled.

 

 

 

 

 

This cutt was a tank and so heavy.

 

 

 

Incredible, just an incredible day!

 

 

 

 

 

We took a long snack break and lay back in the sun. I said to the Lady, “I believe we’ve taken 8 big fish. A great day. I’m satisfied.”

“One more time around the lake!” she exclaimed. “We have enough daylight, we’re here, and we have this Shangri La all to ourselves!”

 

 

Note: most all of this day's photography is Julie's work.

The day had been a Wilderness alpine lake fly fisher’s dream. Our tally was 15 cutthroat 14 to 17 inches, heavy and scrappy. It was a joy. We only took 3 or 4 smaller fish. All were released in good condition. The nurse Lady makes sure of that.

 

We finally noticed clouds had built and we should pay attention to possible thunderstorms. We headed back down to camp.

 

 

 

 

 

It spit rain on our hike down but not enough to pull out the rain gear and pack flies.

 

 

 

We relaxed with our backcountry showers – pouring minimal warm water over each other with a small dab of biodegradable soap – and dinner.

 

Fine evening entertainment took us back up to Phyllis Lake to watch the world grow dark. We heard that mountain goats were in the basin, so this evening we climbed higher to better view positions. We, unfortunately, did not see a mountain goat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We again walked back to camp in the dark. We slept well. You know we did.

 

We drove hard the following day. We took back roads that eliminated any time on a dreaded Interstate. Late afternoon we were back in Northeastern Oregon along the Imnaha River on the edge of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. As we dozed off to sleep that night, we had no idea the next couple of days would bring one of our most incredible fly fishing experiences of our lives.

 

Our adventure continues, please click here for -  Part Four.

 

 

Idaho, Montana, and Oregon – August 2022 – Part Two

 

please remember you can click on a photo to see a larger version & highlighted text are links to additional information

Please click here for – Part One

 

Flying Iron & Tossing Sheep

 

We arrived at our friend’s cozy Montana cottage in the late morning.

 

 

 

Our welcome to the Dutchoven Farm and Bed & Breakfast was classic and filled with warmth.

 

 

 

We met, bonded, and became friends with Muir Trek and Outdoor Woman (MT&OW) when we were all instructors with the Becoming an Outdoor Woman program. Julie and I taught courses including map & compass and outdoor survival skills. MT&OW taught outdoor cooking. We bonded with them because there was no better place to hang out between classes than around their campfire amid the dutchovens filled with culinary wonders. They are two of the finest people we know and we are blessed to have them as friends. The bond grows tighter between us each time we get together. But we told them many years ago we will not just come up for a visit. It is required that they put us to work. They had the appropriate bait to bring us to Montana. A log truck load of lodgepole pine was unloaded in their yard.

 

 

 

It needed to be turned into firewood.

 

 

 

Also on the list was an uprooted cottonwood tree that needed bucking up and the root ball moved to the burn pile. We also discovered other projects we could help with. Pieces of the deck railing were being replaced and the new pieces needed staining prior to assembly.

 

 

 

On our last full day at the Farm, a large truck delivered a ping pong table.

 

 

 

Yup, we helped assemble the table.

 

Our first morning at the Farm, Julie learned how to drag the long driveway to smooth the gravel using a harrow drag behind the Polaris. It went well but she will not be pursuing an operating engineer’s license.

 

The best and by far the most fun project was helping Muir Trek apply the decals to the Kubota Tractor with wagon he had just assembled. Their granddaughter was arriving soon and it needed to be ready and take its place beside the big Kubota in the tractor barn.

 

 

 

Montana is a fun state but it does come close to overdosing on the cowboy culture.

 

 

 

The outdoor Bitterroot Celtic Games & Gathering was last held in 2019 and that year the Lady bravely entered the woman’s skillet toss completion without really knowing what a cast iron fry pan was. She was back to compete, reinforced with her two new knees. We were almost giddy, excited to see how she would do.

We arrived at the Daly Mansion Saturday morning, the festival site. The grounds had been turned into Scotland.

 

 

 

I was always curious what happened to the fox after the fox hunt. This day I learned they stuffed it, dressed it up, and taught it how to play the bagpipes.

 

 

 

There were pipes everywhere at this gathering, absolutely everywhere.

 

 

 

 

 

We had come for the athletic events. We were near ecstatic when we heard there was a Sheep Toss event. This was an event that would never happen in California – mutton busting is as close as we come. Witnessing sheep flying through the air excited me at some deep primal level. We gathered around the cordoned off field.

 

 

 

We got to chatting with an older gentleman whose grandson was competing. I asked where they got the sheep and if they were trained in any way in preparation for the event. The kindly old chap explained it was a Sheaf Toss and no sheep would be flying or harmed in anyway. I sent a quick text to California PETA that they could stop loading the buses.

 

The sheaf is a 16 lb. burlap bag tightly stuffed with straw. A fork is used to toss it as high as you can. Simple enough. Young people were competing and boys and girls competed against each other. The official demonstrated how it was done.

 

 

 

There were a few practice tosses.

 

 

 

This was fun to watch. I did not miss the sheep at all. The bar was put in place and the completion began.

 

 

 

This young girl was out of uniform but it was obvious she knew how to work around a ranch. This was not new to her.

 

 

 

This was my favorite competitor. She was impressive.

 

 

 

I was ready to place all my money on her to win until this happened.

 

 

 

Wow, just wow.

 

We had to leave the Sheaf Toss. We do not know the final outcome. It was time for the skillet toss.

 

 

 

That smaller pan was quickly removed from the toss. A grounds person marked the spot where the skillet first hit. Sometimes that task was quite easy.

 

 

 

An official pulled the tape tight and announced the official measurement.

 

 

 

This was a woman’s event. No men were allowed to compete. They were encouraged, thought, to stand down range as targets. I thought this was purely a fun event. Oh no, there were very serious competitors.

 

 

 

But most were fun and tossed the skillet with smiles on their faces.

 

 

 

 

 

The completion was simple. Each contestant got three tosses. The longest toss won. This competitor had an interesting, serious, go for broke style. She was also ambidextrous. The first toss was with the left.

 

 

 

The second toss was with the right.

 

 

 

She finished off with the left and gave it her all.

 

 

 

This competitor had a winner’s attitude, good form, but bit her lip each time she tossed.

 

 

 

This woman had a talk with her fry pan before throwing it. “Fly my iron eagle. Fly!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This young woman was impressive, serious, and her form and appearance showcased the venue perfectly.

 

 

 

 

 

Our little warrior stepped up to the line. The Lady was here to compete but have fun.

 

 

 

She was a fast pitch softball pitcher and male high school classmates still whine about her ease in striking them out. Her form is still excellent.

 

 

 

Her best toss was 39 feet 11 inches. I wished the officials could have been more accurate. I am convinced it measured 40 feet. The Lady finished in the middle of the pack. She made us proud but refuses to wear a plaid dress next year and let me build a practice range here at home. She was the second oldest entry but was gracious about competing with such youngsters.  

 

There were several tosses in the 40 and 50 foot range. The winner had absolutely no form at all. She walked up to the line and chucked that skillet more than 62 feet.

 

 

 

Wow, just wow!

 

MT&OW get their irrigation water from the Bitterroot Irrigation District (BRID). They received bad news the day we arrived. A break in the canal upstream occurred, was being repaired, but no water for 5 to 7 days. This was hard news with 11 acres in hay production and Montana suffering from record heat, like most of the West. Wouldn’t you know. Water was restored the morning we left. We are not over thinking this.

 

 

 

I cannot overstate how much fun we had with our friends. Breakfast, of course is excellent at the B&B (prepared by Muir Trek) but the absolute star is Outdoor Woman. An example was her superb peach cobbler, a dessert dreams are made of.

 

 

 

 

 

As we prepared for our departure, she insisted on helping with supplies for our travels. We are not dumb and did not protest at all.

“How many scones would you like and what kind of cookies?” she asked. A dozen and peanut butter were our answers. “I’m making you a loaf of bread too.” Her fabulous kitchen was turned into a work station.

 

 

 

Besides the good old fashion work we helped with, the best part of our visit at the Dutchoven Farm and Bed & Breakfast were the evenings on the porch watching the storm clouds move along the front of the Bitterroot Range with our wonderful friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We departed Tuesday morning after five wonderful nights at the Farm. Thank you for your friendship, hospitality, generosity, and letting us come up and work. We love you two.

 

 

 

Our adventure continues. Please click here for - Part Three.