Tactical Advantage, Three Legged Dog, and Lightning

How do you get someone to photograph and "film" trips and activities for a weblog?...

And, from the "Not to Sound Redundant" file.....I went out and fished- This page isn't meant to be about fishing really, but summer is on, the fishing is good, and we've had a really good year so far- the big Green Drakes were on the water in the morning, and a sparse Pale Morning Dun hatch in the afternoon kept the fish looking up...In fact so far since April I haven't "had" to resort to nymphs or streamers at all.. This trip I found the Browns on my home water- at least the ones I've been catching seem bigger than I remember in seasons past.(If you can call water that can only be reached after a hundred mile drive "home water" that is...But what the fuck- Good fishing is good fishing, and my claimed home creek is - as far as I'm concerned, the best dry fly fishing in the state, as well as having a family history in the area- so sue me - I don't like to widen my carbon footprint either, but even a commie environmentalist needs to have a good time- I pick up extra trash as an offset- and believe me - If anyone will make a hydrogen or electric pickup truck that'll get me into the wilds reliably- I'm all ears..)
I knew the weather was going to be overcast, verging on stormy, so even if wanted to do something else, I probably would have fished anyway....
My goal for this year has been to fish sneakier and with longer casts- It seems to be working, but It probably looks ridiculous- I'm making sixty foot casts on a stream that's barely thirty feet wide in the largest beaver pool... but overall my goals for being stealthier have gotten results- I think I hook more and better fish by merely choosing colors that are found in nature, trying to eliminate glare from the gear( I'm considering spraying some of the shinier stuff with a flat clear varnish of some kind...If I ever get around to making my own rods as I plan- gloss finishes and varnish are NOT going to be standard equipment!...), sneaking to a position ( in the water, or on the bank) that puts something between me and the fish...and I try to go to whatever lengths I have to to gain Tactical Advantage BEFORE I cast, rather than shooting from the hip.
Nothing terribly unusual to report though..I saw a 5 point buck go too deep in the creek and panic a little, Saw a kingfisher...a couple of "water-snakes"( Garter snakes for you non-natives)..I caught a Cutt-Bow(a rainbow/cutthroat hybrid) saw a three legged dog( he bites- according to the owner...) found an elk pelvis in the tailout of a beaver dam... I dunno whats up with that...I'm gonna make a Wildlife List ( and a Roadkill List!...) a regular feature- (Yes, I go the extra mile for my readers- it's just who I am...)
OH!...yeah, man!... the one thing that happened is that I almost got hit by lightning...I was headed back to the truck when the lightning started creeping over the ridge. I was staying low, moving quick, I start getting the 'electrical feeling" and then the world went white- the BOOM! made me think I was deaf- but then I was happy- because that meant I was alive- I had to check my parts and found them intact-sprinted the rest of the way back to the truck- promptly jumped out again because I had to piss...(adrenaline reaction) ...then I drove home...

Nature Lovers Unite!...and maybe ENJOY nature LESS...and protect her More!...
http://www.orionmagazine.org/index.php/articles/article/5622/




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Footage of Ed Abbey for a TV program from 1983

This's a lost gem for you, please enjoy! This is one of a series of several Watch them all!
http://vimeo.com/11003484
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No Reservations, The Riot (that wasn't- yet...)- and them damn thievin' Bastijes!....

I'm watching Bourdains show on Liberia and a bit distracted - which frankly doesn't have anything really to do with the fact that despite my good intentions I haven't posted for a week - but what the hell, you can't do it all, and this isn't supposed to be punishment anyway- I've had enough of that since I last posted and the ramifications are ominous- because I fear for the future...
I went out the morning of the day before the BIG ASS HOLIDAY(TM), here in Utah, Pioneer Day- The anniversary of the entry of the Brethren into the Salt Lake valley and the founding of my hometown, is bigger than Independence day and Christmas combined..well not Christmas, perhaps- but you get the idea. And on this morning- bestowed by the Brothers on the faithful in the form of Legal Holiday upon Saint and Sinner(me) alike, I head up to my home creek for a little piscatorial repose.
On the way I make one of those split second decisions to do something different and make a hard right down the winding (barely) two lane that comes out below the dam of an underutilized river that's "Fly Only" regulated- and also has no road access, Its a hike in proposition- fine by me...

...Oh boy-breaking news, via my lovely wife, via Iphone grapevine: "Rioting in Arizona surrounding the State supreme court decision nullifying portions of the newly passed Illegal Immigration Bill"....When I was a young man and I was just hearing The Clash for the first time there was a Compelling Little Number the London based malcontents had drilled into my head called "White Riot":
..."White riot - I wanna riot,White riot - a riot of my own...
Black man gotta lot a problems, But they don't mind throwing a brick
White people go to school, Where they teach you how to be thick
An' everybody's doing, Just what they're told to
An' nobody wants, To go to jail!
All the power's in the hands, Of people rich enough to buy it
While we walk the street, Too chicken to even try it
Everybody's doing, Just what they're told to
Nobody wants, To go to jail!
Are you taking over, or are you taking orders?
Are you going backwards, Or are you going forwards?..."
(...Dear surviving members of The Clash, be careful what you wish for...)

...anyway, I fished below the dam, when I pulled up I saw a couple of cars, but It didn't look crowded and as I walked and fished I also talked with pretty much everyone I crossed paths with- and they all seemed nice and normal and not drug addled, creepy pseudo-redneck tweaker bastardheads....
When I got back to the truck it was about two pm and I talked to a couple of guys in swim trunks and no shirts who were going down the trail for the first time and asked me about it, I advised covering up due to the deer flies, I drove on to my home creek and at the bottom of its canyon where it crosses the highway there's a gas station and I gassed up, and as I did I happened to look into the camper shell through its window and saw truck bed where my rods and tackle duffel reside...
....Apparently there isn't any riot- just Joe Arpaio's boys in riot gear arresting protesters of the Arizona law- allegedly targeting the legal observers, and promising to have police and "volunteers" on the streets to keep order...whatever that means...
I won't bore with detail but in the end about seven hundred dollars in low dollar ghetto fly tackle ("cause dats how I roll , G...") was stolen-If I make an insurance claim the rates go up, and after factoring in the deductible, it isn't really worth it anyway... What I had after it was said and done was my 8 foot 5 weight, a decent reel and line, and 6 fly boxes that I had on my person- every other bit of fly tackle was taken...a float tube, some camp chairs....They left my coffee pot, camp stove, and water jug though so they weren't murderous- just materialistic...
After I talked to the nice young Wasatch County deputy( who was of Hispanic descent- which somehow seems to matter in light of what's happening in AZ right now- I guess...) I went to my creek and fished- I was off my Zen with what'd gone on but there was a blanket midge hatch a little before sunset, and some Green Drakes were still popping here and there so I caught some...right around dusk I got into proper headspace and while not exactly "forgetting" about the events of the day, I was fishing at near normal efficiency.
Just after the sun went down I hooked up- and as fishermen everywhere have experienced when hooking large trout- the fish didn't move- there was some head shaking, and for close to ten seconds nothing happened- which was good because it gave me time to get the damn slack line on the reel before the bruiser took off...and I still almost broke off because I'd dialed the drag up for convenience, and as the trout reached the literal end of his rope the rod tugged my arms like an elephant and I dropped the tip just in time to maintain control and thumbed the drag back ( thanks Okuma- a star drag on a trout weight rod? they scoffed...I ,for one, am thankful...)
I never got into the backing or any thing like that - but it was a long dramatic fight and the fish dragged me up and down stream a few times...
The final measure was nineteen inches- as measured against the rod and marked in mud for tape reference when I arrived home....
I bought a new vest last night- at Cabela's...as a card carrying elitist snob fisherman, I can tell you that buying a Cabela's branded vest in the Walmart of outdoor retailers stung...I could have gotten the Simms- which was pretty fuckin' tits( as the kids say- I don't talk like that...)but it was the mesh model, and I spend a lot of my life in deep willow and I don't need the hassle of a mesh vest in underbrush...and I also felt guilty because we aren't rolling in dough these days- I mean everything is taken care of, but it isn't exactly the same standard of living it was a year ago is it?...
What the hell though, I caught a damn nice fish in a small stream and I can get a patch with "THE CLASH" embroidered on it to cover that hideous logo on the new vest at our local HEAVY METAL SHOP, or Raunch Records....those thieves have nothing...

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Petes Birthday

Friday night was over cast and I keep hoping to catch more Green Drakes on the water. It's not the kind of thing you can really expect, but the life of a fisherman is based less on expectations than it is on hope- so I guess that's a fancy way of saying that I didn't much care if its unlikely or not, I wanted the possibility of more "hot, trout-on-fly action"
And it was Petes Birthday- Pete's my Father-in-Law, A standup guy- and he's been busy with "real life" stuff for a year- the house, and death in the family and that kind of thing...without much chance to get out.
I called Saturday morning and I was surprised when he could get out- I expected more busy-ness...
We were on the water at "Chokecherry Creek"( we don't use real names here- a guy could get killed for that...)- a favorite haunt of mine. It had Drakes- some years they even hatch- and for a small stream it has some surprisingly good fish- in water that is anything but boring, there's a good mix of riffles, bend pools overhangs, and undercut banks, being on the edge of the Colorado plateau doesn't hurt either- nice red rock/alpine surroundings....
Pete hooked into a strong little brookie almost immediately- a relief because I figure he deserved to catch fish- and the first is always the lynch-pin- after you've brought one to hand all the rest is gravy.
It took me a bit to get into a fish - I had some kind of problem with my tippet and every time I'd get caught up in the ever-present willows I'd pop the tippet off the tiny loop a the end of the furled leader that I like- this usually never happens, I've often gone weeks without changing tippets because of the dampening effect of the furled leader...But today?...today I couldn't make it work- I wasn't frustrated, but I could have gotten there if let my self up the wrong train of thought, I got some good hits, but I missed some strikes too- I hooked up a couple of times and lost fish, and after Pete had had a couple of fish to hand I finally did too...which sounds more-what...? maybe, more"desperate" than it was- It was my home water and I was having tackle issues, but was still in good company, in a pretty place making contact with the fish so it wasn't like there was anything grim about it- I just wanted to hook up and hadn't done so...
Pete hooked up while I was tying knots at one point and I heard a loud splash- a big fish, and as I looked over Pete said "That was a good fish.." and it had to have been - the noise and sight of it throwing the hook wasn't consistent with the behavior of little brookies... ominous, yeah?...
I finally did have an honest fish- and a good fight, as it was a pretty nice brown who had been around long enough to try to take me into the willow roots a couple of different times- and ran down stream with the current, saving energy- and putting extra strain on that tippet that I wasn't very confident in at this point..I also stepped into a hole that was at least 3 feet deep during the fight(because that's what happens in these situations...) I had the fish netted and photographed within 3 minutes from the take, though- It's still a small stream trout - even if it was an honest 16 incher. I catch a couple of browns or cutts this big or bigger each year on this stream , but they aren't so common as to be unremarkable- a damn fine fish....
We continued fishing for a little bit but Pete had birthday stuff to do so we split before the evening hatch- which reminds me that the only insects we saw most of the day were sporadic and sparse, Pale Morning Duns- not even the usual caddis and midge swarms that you can usually count on on this stream...
Happy Birthday Pete!

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No Coffee, No Salmon, and Shanking the Bitches Tires

Its not always sunshine and roses....After last weekends excitement almost anything else could be considered a letdown- I guess, If you let it...And the fates couldn't let me off with the events of the boulder trip without a balancing of some kind.The Fish Gods may not be fair but they are Balanced. The fella's at work, Dan and Todd had a good day on "Utahs Premier Stillwater Fishery(TM)"...and, really- usually its a pretty sure bet- But we have had weird weather this spring and its upset the fishing-chi and so it happened that I found myself aboard Dans aluminum boat with the downriggers and all that shiny hardware that comes along with reservoirs and boats and deep water.
the plan was to camp in the Narrows between the Strawberry and Soldier Creek arms of the res, which actually worked out fine because we'd left town late in the afternoon and getting into the narrows would provide an opportunity to fish on the way.
So we set up the riggers and rods and trolled the distance between the boat ramp and the island campsite, catching two fat(if a little on the small side...) cut-bows fish and a a couple more hits, but no Kokanee, which were the targeted species..
Events had already reached a certain level of weird as we pulled up to the ranger booth to pay for the boat launch facilities, as Dan slowed the re-purposed farm truck up to the gate we hear swearing and honking from the FJ behind us- As Dan gets out to fill out the little pay envelope Todd and I hear a female voice angrily yelling "They don't give a shit! Why don't you just pay at the Marina!'....apparently we were in her way which seemed odd to me- as Dans rig could easily be passed on either side- was she drunk?...Stupid?..I dunno, I do know that Dan calmly looked up from his writing and envelope stuffing and replies "Cause that's not what I want to fucking do..".and just as calmly finished the business at hand while FJ Lady backed up her rig and went around us with Todd and I cackling while she goes around the opposite side of the guardhouse/pay-station...Dan proceeded to come up with plans to "shank" her tires for the next 24 hours( note: no tires- however deserving, were actually shanked....don't be assumin'..what's wrong with you?...)
Dan had a fine campsite that he'd found on past trips , and in the usual campsite silliness we yelled obscenities at the cliffs to hear the echo, watched moonset through binocs, drank some cheap bourbon, and ate Hebrew Nationals around the campfire , later we played All Terrain Bowling with a foam rubber ball Dan had in the truck- I'd tell you how to play it but the rules chiefly consisted of what ever Dan happened to be thinking at the moment. Which makes for an interesting game but doesn't lend itself to concise narrative...
To bed late, and up early- always makes for a good trip doesn't it?...Dans phone alarm went off at 4:30....a.m....God...damn...it...I didn't throw it in the reservoir only because Dan lost a phone to a campsite mishap earlier in the year- and I pitied his misfortune- I didn't pity him enough though, to refrain from cursing him loudly for the next two hours as he slept and I tried in vain to boil a pot of coffee water( Todds stove took a shit, and I tried to heat up the iso-propane canister with a twig fire that I then tried to re-purpose to a cookfire- and everything went to shit because the earlier I'm awake, the more important coffee is- especially when I have some serious cursing to do- especially when the guy being cursed is sleeping, and ignoring my epithets...)
At the end of it all, when Dan and Todd were awake and moving, we resumed fishing and caught nothing....I was caffiene deprived and surely not good company, as I bitched and moaned about not having a flybox - or flyrod for that matter, because size 14 Callibaetis mayflies were popping and trout- good trout, were feeding on them along the windward shoreline- as we chucked "drop-shot" rigs at them in vain...
Whats more to say?...We went home. We stopped in Heber for breakfast at Chicks Cafe, which wasn't as inexpensive as it used to be, but the hashbrowns were good and they offer a choice of brown or white gravy on the chicken fried steak...I had a couple of cups of goddamn coffee...
...Overall it wasn't a bad trip....

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Boulder Mountain Follies- pt.2

"...When we last saw our intrepid hero he was making his way down to a canyon containing a creek feeding the Escalante River..."
Yeah... so there I was carefully making my way down to the bottom of the canyon expecting a bit of a struggle to get there, maybe getting rimmed out a little or expecting a hundred foot pourover to keep me from the bottom, but It was really pretty straightforward- though I forgot the camera so...yeah...
I switched the boots for sandals an pulled out the flyrod- and spooked the first fish I saw...
I remind myself it's important to slow down in situations like this, and remember even on a mission, you should take it easy and enjoy yourself- I just walked along for awhile enjoying the canyon, I saw a rattler, (and left it alone- like a good boy..) and inventoried the botany( grasses, sedges,box elder, narrow leaf willow, single leaf ash, wild rose, artemesia, cattails and the usual cacti and rabbit brush a little further off the water...)
I see several good pools as I get into the flow, and make a few casts at the trout feeding obliviously in the clear water- I get a couple of strikes in a couple of casts, but most of the fish scatter as the lines shadow falls on the water- the first brought to hand is a brookie, thin and rightfully so- it's hard country for trout, too damn hot and dry..I'm half sitting, half standing on a near vertical canyon wall curving upstream to my right, and make a cast or two following that curve into the pool above to keep out of sight of the fish in it- one of the casts snags a shrub, and as I pull the leader off the snag, something darts from the bush and I see a little blue bellied lizard eat the fly at the end. Fortunately he doesn't like the flavor of elk hair and chicken feathers as much as real caddis flies, and spits it out saving me the trouble of reptile surgery...
As I walk and fish I find several spots where much of the creek has nearly disappeared into eroded channels of the bedrock sandstone, in some places mere inches wide- curious, I lob a cast into the current and sure enough, its immediately jumped by a trout- a decent trout too- well in the 12-14 inch range.
I wander over to the next creek up, a longer walk and find the going a little tougher, I have to cross a sizable steep ridge between the drainages, and the next canyon offers more of a technical challenge to get into- there are several places where I have to backtrack and climb (throwing my flyrod onto the next terrace ahead to use both hands..), but overall not too tough.
This canyon is a near twin of the other, with a bit more water, and perhaps narrower, I again catch a few fish, and scare something large.(probably a deer- though I secretly hope for cougar...) As I begin the climb back to the truck, I note that the sun is getting well past the midday mark in the sky and I want to camp in the high country tonight.
I'm pretty done in when I get back to the truck. and sweaty- I'm pretty sure that I can smell my own ass sweat...not unusual, but it usually doesn't happen the same day of my last shower. I whore bathe as well as I can, SR 12 offering little privacy, I crouch behind the pickup and wash,wondering what the tourists will think if they see me with both hands and a wet bandanna down my shorts...To hell with'em I live here goddamnit...
I begin the drive to Escalante and up Hells Backbone...And, as happens in these situations, I realize I'm still wearing my keffiyeh ( the arab headscarf so handy in the desert.. I dyed one of mine a redrock pink/orange/tan, you never know when you need a little camo...) and I realize this because several vehicles have passed by, staring like I - Well, like I was a Arab...in southern Utah...Well whatever, I have my papers- and I'm obviously caucasian under the fabric and sunglasses...I still take the thing off before town though...one tries not to stir up the natives...
Gassing up in Escalante I realize the coffee is as good as I've ever tasted in a gas station- I think the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is improving things here - whether the local folks want to admit it or not ...On that same note I noticed that the owner of the ranchhouse with the vaguely threatening anti SUWA ( Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance) sign on the fence has at least cooled down enough to take the thing down...too bad- as a card carrying SUWA member- I've counted on that sign to validate my existence-plus it adds character to the town...

The plan was to hike around a bit and fish a couple of the lakes on top of the Boulder, however - I only fished one for an hour or so (out of my float tube- it was pretty weedy on the perimeter and casting from shore would have been fruitless, I caught a half dozen or so brookies and two cutthroat- one of which was probably the biggest fish of the trip at about 15-16 inches, measured against the length of my 5 weight rod...
It started getting dark so I started packing up, having confirmed there really was a forest service campground a bit down the four-wheel road I had come in on. When I arrived I realized I needed money...It was a pay to camp area, and though I wasn't broke, all my money was digital -Ihad only my debit card and two wet one dollar bills....I've done this before and swore I'd never let it happen again...Normally I'd just find a secluded spot off the road and bed down, but I was in a pretty steep forested canyon, and getting the truck off the road would be a trick, and I didn't know whether camping in undesignated areas was even allowed...
So I started driving like a bat out of hell down canyon to Escalante to find an ATM or a pull out that looked like I could "sneak-a camp" without getting busted (by the campground concession owners- I haven't ever been bothered by Rangers in National Forest areas but the camp concessionaires are fucking ruthless!...). Near the bottom of the road, nearly to town, I saw a trailhead to a popular hike in the GSE National Monument and having been there before, turned off the headlights, zipped up the sandy quarter mile road( never drive slow in sand- that's how you get stuck...I could be wrong, but it works for me...) to the parking area, turned off the engine and camp was made. There was one car there from Kansas, my snooping in the trail register assured me that Mr. KS wouldn't be back tonight(long trail. he was staying a few days...) I started the backpack stove, opened the soupcan, dumped in the dehydrated mashed potatoes, and while the whole thing heated up on the tailgate I grabbed a light rod and walked over to the creek and caught a nice desert of two brook trout with pepper, dandelion leaves and butter....
The night was uneventful, I simply rinsed out the aluminum stove case that I use as a cookpot (and shovel, and water can , and anything else that I can use it for, being a permanent fixture in the truck...), swallowed the last of my aperetif-ic PBR, rolled the stinkbag out in the pickup bed, and slept til the first hint of light in the east woke me.
I had a carrot and kippers for breakfast and- I know, I know...It's getting old- but I really did, again- "walk up the creek , caught a couple of trout in a beautiful desert canyon", while coffee brewed on the tailgate, drove back to town and had good coffee from the same gas I stopped in yesterday while I gassed up, and rolled ninety odd miles back the way I came to see if I could find any public access to the Fremont river...
...And I didn't..I just didn't find anyplace that looked"public" to fish the Fremont river, up higher on the Fremont I guess maybe I did, but the last few days had been a little rainy and overcast and the river looked muddy and - more importantly, "unfishy"...It isn't logical, but I wasn't getting the idea that it was a great fishing day on the Fremont- coupled with the fact that I was unsure of the public/private status- and with the recent hoopla regarding HB141( this state law that's passed that makes it a big no-no for public fishermen to fish for public trout, in public water...that passes through PRIVATE land...) so I kept driving up- and that meant locking hubs and putting the truck in four and I soon found myself up near Fish Lake- a different mountain range for hell's sake!..I found a little meadow stream that was a third order tributary to the Fremont River- so technically I was fishing the water I meant to ( Heraclitus' argument notwithstanding- he didn't have a four wheel drive pickup...) . I can't resist a meadow stream- even though I knew what I was in for - more brook trout..I am not complaining- but It isn't like one of those articles by big name fishing writers where they catch a hundred different trout as long as your arm -some of which are even brook trout - which never happened to me except once in the Uinta's when I caught a big old kype jawed brook trout in a stream that you'd have to stretch to call a creek...
And I started fishing it, and caught fish- brook trout .... I guess it took some time to get there though, I had to figure out that there being no structure in this flat bottomed stream , the fish had no cover- except the banks...and the water being so clear and flat, I had to get low. on my knees, I cast side arm, making long casts, staying as much as possible out of sight of where I was fishing- and then I began to catch the little fella's. The bugs on the water were almost all midges but I had on an olive Elk Hair Caddis, so my guess at the time was they weren't particularly selective, then I noticed that that there was a sparse hatch of caddis coming off- one or two bugs every few minutes, and that they were caddis about a size bigger than I had on so I caught a natural out of the air and it was tan. I switched flies and the catching picked up some. I also discovered that for an even better presentation I could use an old trick that you don't get to use much around here because most waters are brushy banked, but on a grassy banked stream like this one you can cast the fly to the grass, and pull it onto the water closer to the edge than you can cast it....all this time the clouds had been building, and this being 10,00 feet i didn't give it much attention, mountains cause their own weather and rain is expected most days, and last weekend in the Uinta's at about this elevation it snowed on me and the guys I was with- on the fourth of July. But I DID take notice when the thunder started- I'm carrying a lightning rod in the middle of a meadow where I'm the tallest thing...I head back to the truck and begin to fire up the stove.
I want to give the weather a chance to pass- this is good fishing- long casts, spooky fish small stream...good stuff....quickly-though not to quickly I suppose, it takes several minutes because I manage to get the pot filled and coffee on the stove , but a big rain started and as I huddled under the hatch of the camper shell, it starts hailing....Much of the truck contents are quickly soaked, including the one thing I worried about keeping dry- the sleeping bag....but as I predicted, it was over before I finished my coffee. The sun slowly came out and I dried the stuff in the truck in the sun, while I clean out the bed and wad some kippers and carrots down my craw...
When the danger of electrocution passes I'm back on the water- still catching fish, but I have a fishermans hunch that I'm missing part of the puzzle...A few minutes later I get a clue when I see a few mayflies over the stream - they aren't close enough to identify , but I think they could be big-that's good, as bigger bugs mean bigger meals for the trout, soon I see a mayfly emerging from its nymphal shuck on the stream- and uncharacteristically, making quite a noise, as it drifts toward me I recognize it as a "cripple"- a mayfly that can't quite get out of the skin it wore as a nymph in its aquatic life stage...I also notice that its big- a full one inch long and as I reach for it to get a better look I recognize the insect, and start noticing increasing numbers of them coming of the water, while at the same time I see the fish are moving into the current and taking their meals with slashing, splashy rises- they're on the bug I'm holding- the famous Green Drake- well known all over the west, but we don't often get to fish them in Utah , they usually hatch during the spring runoff, and the cloudy high water keeps the hatch from being much an event here as it is in Yellowstone or Idaho...But here it is, and it's on- I've carried Green Drake flies for years and rarely get to use them, but I soon had one on the line, and a fish on the fly- and that was the remainder of my day- fish after fish. An embarrassment of riches. I fished until it was dark- full dark. and quickly decided to go home- now , tonight. I wasn't going to get any better than this and I could get the lawn mowed or something tomorrow if i went home early...I drove the three hundred miles and through two detours on I-15 before arriving at 1 am- and slept like a baby , with a sore shoulder from casting. Who am I to complain though?... While putting away the gear Sunday morning I pulled the drake off my leader - it's hardly recognizable as an imitation of the natural insect-after being chewed by countless fish, but I tied it myself -possibly years ago, at least several months ago( the last batch of Green Drakes I tied was this winter...) and tied for no other reason than hope , and that hope paid this time...

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Old Age and Treachery trumps Youth and Skill(again)

Having seen
the classical
and the modern
we find ourselves in
a timeplace
named postmodern
filled with
Irony
Sarcasm
Diversion
and Masks
and these are fine
and sometimes as
beautiful as
they say

I do not want
to forget though
that most of what is
beautiful
is ordinarily
and obviously beautiful
like water
sparking in sun
and sand falling between fingers
and a lovers breath

and when a man says
these words
in this timeplace
he expects to be called a fool
it is not a revelation
so
I am a fool

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Boulder Mountain Follies- pt.1

...On the weekend after The July Fourth holiday is deal for a scouting trip in to the southern Utah wilds, The region surrounding the Boulder Mountain area, near the towns of Torrey, Boulder, and Escalante haven't seen the kind of development and "tourism related" exploitation of, say- Moab or Aspen, but its still got its share of spandex and Goretex- not to mention the somewhat more homegrown, but still enthusiastic visitors of the hook and bullet persuasion (god bless'em...)...But that's all another story- I'm out the weekend after the holiday to avoid the crowds, on a recon mission for red rock trout. The drive down, fueled by the classic jackmormon speedball of nicotine and coffee, is uneventful and quick- the way I like it. No tickets, and no breakdowns- an accomplishment on a 15 year old truck that sports a last minute JB Weld radiator repair.The only things worth mentioning regarding the trip down were the notable lack of wildfire smoke on the horizon, and the Chuckwagon in Torrey had a sign proclaiming "Cell Phone Accessories Available Here!"...that I hadn't noticed before- Oh!, AND they PAVED the Burr Trail!...What the hell are my tax dollars for?...it's sacrilege...generations of idiots, desert rats and rednecks have been been wrecking cars on that lonely road and now its all over,any reasonable and sane person can now Rock the Casbah in air conditioned comfort, with four channel stereo in a spacious sedan- perhaps while sipping a cold Pepsi....On the up side they've apparently only paved the first 20 miles or so from Boulder so you can still die out there- you'll just be farther from town when you start having the Bugs Bunny style hallucinations that would indicate- If you are aware of your diminishing capacity, that your brain is melting into the orangey landscape, and your time is at hand...
...Not a happy thought, but this is: there's a well known little canyon there with some trout and I fished it for a few minutes- As I said this was an exploration - I had places to go, and fish to hook- if only to remind myself which ones are viable for further missions... And, I was reminded why I so seldom fish the red rock canyons...
You see, in the desert,the water is is concentrated, and the canyons are narrow, and they see little in the way of people (and their attending development)...the water concentrated in small space between the narrow walls causes lush growth, grass, willows, cottonwoods, sedges, rose( and her thorns of course- because Brett Micheals decreed it ...) so hiking in these places you can often move off from the stream a bit and 3, 5 or ten feel off the actual water there is good old sand or stone,to walk on, and sniff the juniper and verbena. When you fish these places though, you're gonna be right down in it, and trying to swing a rod to boot...In my case it was a 5 weight 8 and half footer- because, though I know better, I was lazy and didn't wanna rig up a smaller lighter stick. Between smacks from the willows and falls through decades deep rafts of deadwood and pricks from the roses, I caught a few brookies- on a little Humpy dry fly- maybe four. Enough to confirm my beliefs: The fish were there, they weren't (probably) going to be very big, and we had a predominance of the brook trout( which I do like a lot- they're good friends, and pretty things , but you do hope for Cutts in their native range. I'm not disappointed , but if you don't hope for things to be better-maybe "different" is a more succinct word, than you're used too, why would you do this kind of crap at all?.....) I had a few more stops to make though so I was on my way- eighty or so miles south...
The obvious guess would be Calf Creek- its right on that charmer of a road SR 12, and its easy access- but I know those trout well- brookies again- and the spookiest fish I've ever met...I'm familiar with them from the many times I've camped at the campground there and tried to catch a few of them- I've succeeded, but I miss twenty or thirty for every one I catch- for every cast , from the best concealment I can manage, would scare an entire pool, sometimes though one inattentive fish would be looking down as my lines shadow passed over her and she'd take the fly- pure random luck..and interesting, but the exercise is moot- the campground is closed for "renovation", and I'm not about to go negotiate fishing rights with a construction crew. I hit instead a couple of feeder creeks to the Escalante "River"- which itself isn't trout water, and though it might be fun to fish for a few other species-most of the rivers residents are endangered and I don't even know how to fish for them, even if it were legal or moral to do so...These feeder creeks come down from Boulder Mountain , but down in the lower desert country they aren't necessarily easily accessible. You either take the long road, hike up the Escalante Canyon to where the creeks feed in, or try your hand at overland access from Highway 12, possibly shorter but canyon country doesn't have many "shortcuts", most of the surface area of this desert is vertical rather than horizontal- Route 12 , the highway from where I start my walk is testament to that, in the section where I fill my water bag, and don the "Stones"
( hiking boots- for ankle support, rather than the usual sandals I wear for more well know desert jaunts..) is literally on top of a ridge that drops away at unscaleable angles on either side, for several hundred feet- not literally vertical, but may as well be...( there is no leeway for inattentive driving here, leave the roadway, and you are likely to leave your appendages- if not your life- the speed limit is a paltry 25 MPH- which might seem like overkill on the caution front- until you are here, and then that speed might seem a bit more like rash foolishness...)
The hike in to the first creek on the route was less than a mile by sight, and relatively uneventful, though I was careful to stay high in the canyon- "rimming" as the technique is called by my desert hiking friends, so as to NOT descend into any level of a canyon that you haven't firmly established that you can get out of, on the way back. People commonly find desert hiking easy until the descend into a canyon that SEEMS easy to get back out of- only to find that "slickrock" has it's name for a reason- most folks do get out- usually with nothing more than FAR more effort than they were wiling to expend, sometimes they require assistance, less frequently full on search and rescue assistance, some folks though, only come out in black bags with full length zippers- and then there are the truly privileged few who don't come out at all- they become desert legends like Brother Everett Ruess- whose remains had lain in peace for about 80 years until discovered last year..
...and having digressed again...I'll leave you with a minor- but literal cliff hanger- as I have to go make some early morning money tomorrow...cheers!
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