Utah 45

You blink, and suddenly you're 45.  You don't feel 45 in your brain, though you do in your joints.  You don't think you look 45, and you even get courtesy carded sometimes.  Despite all that, the math indicates you are, in fact, 45.  I spent my 40th birthday in Utah, fishing and hiking, and I decided to do the same this time, although I would be going alone instead of with Shaun and Birch.  I would, however, be able to spend some time with my friend, April, who was also a part of my 40th celebration as she and her husband, James, live in Salt Lake.  I booked a hotel in Park City, near the Canyons.  I wanted something convenient but not in the middle of everything, and the Club Wyndham fit the bill. I also like having a full kitchen because eating too many meals out is not enjoyable for me and feels like a waste of money because most restaurants are just average but all are overpriced. Just typical 45 year old decision making.  

Part of aging that I love is knowing what you want and often being in a better position financially to make those things happen.  Driving north to Seatac and dealing with airport parking is definitely one of my circles of Hell.  Travel in general these days is so chaotic for me mentally, that I really wanted to minimize my stress levels on this trip, so rather than drive in commuter traffic and deal with airport parking and shuttles, I caught the Premier Express airport shuttle from my house early Wednesday morning and made it to the airport and through security with no issues.  Having someone else drive and being able to use the carpool lane for roughly the same amount of money as it costs for gas and airport parking feels like a cheat code to me.  The flight to Salt Lake was uneventful as was picking up my rental car.  

Finally being done with most of my travel, I had this strange nervous energy- part anticipation, part anxiety about I don't know what.  Well, I do know part of it (a lot of it) was the weather and the lack of control its fluctuations afforded me.  While Wednesday was warm and sunny, Thursday was to be the last day of reliably good weather the rest of the week/weekend.  I had done so much research and planning different hikes, lakes, and streams for this trip because I had some very clear goals in mind.  I wanted to take Thursday (my birthday) as a chill day to fish some small creeks and maybe do a very short hike to a lake to fish so I could acclimate to the altitude given I come from sea level.  Then, Friday, I was hoping to do a longer hike to several lakes that held different species of trout I was targeting, namely some larger tiger and brook trout and then investigate some other smaller streams on Saturday before a hike with April on Sunday, fly home Monday.  Well, basically none of that was going to work out.  Friday and Saturday were predicted for lots of rain and wind in the high country with snow Saturday night into Sunday, so my best hiking option was Friday, which I think is what threw my brain into a frenzy.  After having somewhat of a disappointing summer, I had mentally put a lot of stock in this trip to provide a little bit of redemption, and now it looked like it was going to be more of the same: frustration.  

I stopped at a fly shop in Park City, and while the guy at the shop was talking to me and was very nice, I was conscious that I wasn't comprehending a thing he said as my mind raced through scenarios, weather and trip reports, and how I was going to rearrange everything and still have a chance to meet at least some of my goals.  I was also really hungry, having not eaten since breakfast, and it was now around three pm.  I left that fly shop, and when I got into the car, I ate a small granola bar that was in my bag for hanger emergencies.  This was that emergency, so I gobbled it up and drank a big swig of water.  I had to sit myself down for a chat, mentally.  Weather is weather.  You can't control it, and it can always change, but mostly, you just need to take the chance you have and enjoy it.  You have a friend who is taking a day off work to spend with you on your birthday.  You are going to see some beautiful sights, stimulate some red blood cells, and probably catch some fish.  Be grateful.  That pause really helped me reset and refocus.  I was too embarrassed to go back into that fly shop and be like, 'now what'd you say again?' so I decided to head to another shop that was very close to my hotel and the grocery store where I had a list of things to get to support my adventures for the week.  

The vibe in this fly shop was much better right off the bat, not that there was anything wrong with the first one, I just liked this one better, and I was feeling better.  The guy working there was super nice and looked at weather reports with me.  He thought I'd have Thursday and most of the day Friday with some nice weather, and that I should just go with it, which I appreciated.  He also told me I had to take the drive out to Strawberry Reservoir and mouse for cutthroat.  It was on my radar during the planning of this trip, so I brought my heavier rod and floating line along just in case.  He gave me some great intel about what kind of water to look for and some general starting points (the reservoir is huge, so this was very helpful).  He also suggested I have waders just because you fish early or late when the fall temps are still pretty cold.  Since I didn't bring my waders, I'd need to rent some, which I could do there when I needed them, which was going to be Saturday at this point.  We talked fishing a little longer, and then I headed out to the grocery store to pick up some snacks and breakfast/lunch foods before meeting up with April.   

The hotel concierge had contacted me before my trip to offer their services and inquire about the purpose of my visit, so when I checked in, they had kindly upgraded me to a really nice suite and even left a little welcome/birthday gift.  Those little touches are greatly appreciated.  I grabbed a quick shower before April knocked on the door.  She brought me a coloring book of birds with dirty names as a birthday gift- such a good gifter that one.  Day one was a whirlwind and a microcosm of the rest of the week, but I was grateful to be with a friend, and we made plans to hike the next day.  April is great because she doesn't fly fish but is fine to hang out, and now that she is pretty into knitting, there would be plenty to keep her occupied while I tried my hand at a few lakes along our loop hike.  

The first lake we came to was stocked with tiger trout, which is a species I really wanted to catch this trip.  On my 40th, I caught probably the most beautiful tiger trout I've ever seen.  It was so colorful, we nicknamed it PSL or Pumpkin Spice Latte.  Now five years later, I wanted to put another one in the net.  We made quick time up the mile or so to the first of several lakes on this loop. I made my way around the left side of the lake (over some patchy snow) to a rocky outcropping with a nice drop off while April found a nice log and broke out her knitting.  I set my bag down and a huge tiger trout jumped out of the water right in front of me, which I thought was a great omen for this lake. Wrong.  While I saw a few isolated rises in the next hour, there was no real action, even though I tried dry flies, nymphs, and streamers.  Even the group of older men I talked to on the way up who caught loads of fish at this lake last week struggled to catch anything, which did make me feel a bit better.  Because we were doing a loop hike with several lakes, we decided to move on to give ample time to try my luck at some other lakes but not before enjoying a cake pop I picked up at the bakery the day before.  

We climbed a few switchbacks to a pair of twin lakes, aptly named... Twin Lakes.  Initially we had thought about ascending to the saddle just north of us for an expansive views of the High Uintas, but there were some building clouds that looked like they could be up to something, so we opted for having a quicker, less exposed exit option, and instead sat for a snack at the lakes where we could see multiple fish rising.  I hooked a few brookies in that lake, but they all shook my barbless hook.  After the experience at the first lake, it was still nice to have some action and know that I hadn't completely forgotten how to fly fish in the last week.  We moved to the next lake where I caught lots of brookies, a couple of decent sized ones, and all with beautiful markings.  Passing a few other lakes, I was kind of tired of fishing for brookies and a little let down about not catching any tigers, so we continued down toward the parking lot, finishing around 3 pm.  April had to work the next day and decided to take off back to SLC, but we had plans to meet up on Saturday night for a slumber party at my hotel where we could continue our binge watch of RHOSLC.  I decided to drive further east on the Mirror Lake Highway to the namesake lake and a beautiful view of Hayden Peak.  Hungry from hiking, I decided to reward myself with a burger, fries, and some ice cream once back into Park City.  

The weather window I had hoped for was clearly going to deteriorate sooner than hoped, at least up high, so my plan for Friday was to fish a few drive up lakes before the weather turned in the afternoon.  As I drove on Mirror Lake Highway, the temperature went from 45 to 44 to eventually 37... and the fog that was supposed to lift never did- not exactly ideal fishing conditions.  I fished a lake that held tigers for about 45 minutes with very few fish spotted aside from a few subsurface boils, and by that point I was kind of done with the wind, the cold, the rain, and quite frankly, I felt a little dejected and discouraged.  I decided I would drive back down toward the valley and look for a creek to fish, but that was before I got a warning light about my tire pressure.  I assumed it was the cold but without a gauge to check and being in a rental car I had never driven, I couldn't be sure.  I took my time driving westward just in case there was an issue with the tire (visually nothing appeared to be off, but the light remained oneven after restarting the car and driving for a while).  When I got back into Kamas, I checked all four tires, and the front right was about six psi lower than it should be.  I filled it with air to the recommended level and waited for the light to go off, which didn't happen right away.  I decided to duck into another fly shop and get some advice.  The guy there was super nice and had no way of knowing how frustrated I was- the day before had been okay fishing but not what I hopedvand no tigers then or today.  Of course, today was already not going well, and the weather was going to ruin my chances for more hiking.  We chatted for several minutes just about fishing and trips, and he also encouraged me to try out the famed Strawberry Reservoir.  Truth be told, I was a little intimidated by it, and I don't know why truly.  I think I still need a lot of validation around fly fishing, which is so weird because truth be told, I am really pretty good at it.  There's just some lingering doubt and insecurity, but after another meeting with myself and reminding myself that this is the opportunity I have, and I won't have it again for who knows how long, I decided to give it a go.  

I drove back to Park City to rent some waders with the intention of heading out early Saturday morning to Strawberry.  I went back to the second shop from the day before and got everything I needed.  Now back to my hotel, I started to think about how I was going to fill the rest of my evening and came up empty aside from knowing I would spend the next several hours ruminating over my bad luck and poring over weather forecasts which I could not control and generally driving myself crazy.  So, I decided what the hell, why not just drive out there on Friday night?  My logic was it would probably be less crowded than a Saturday morning, which would help the intimidation/lack of confidence factor. The weather there was gonna be okay, just windy with some chances of rain, but I live in Washington- I can't be afraid of a little rain.  Just go do it, 'take this chance', I told myself, so I loaded up my gear including my mouse flies and headed southeast, through Heber City and a beautifully scenic canyon full of autumn colors and landed at the massive reservoir around five-thirty.  Based on the helpful intel from the Trout Bum 2 fly shop in Park City, so I had an idea of where I wanted to go and was pleased to see no one in the immediate area and only one other fly fisher person far from me, so I headed down the user trail from the road to the water, passing through sagebrush and cow poop.  With mousing, you want to throw them at either early daylight or dusk/sunset, so while I waited for time to pass, I figured I would throw a streamer on a sinking line and see if I could get any fish.  It was so, so, so windy, blowing from R to L which put the streamer way closer to my face than I wanted while casting, and it was just really not great, despite double hauling.  My line management was awful, the wind was knocking my backcast down, just awful all around.  I was about to give up and leave, but I was committed to mousing, so I decided to start just a little before dusk.  I tied the fly onto my tippet connected to my floating line and chucked it out as far as I could, which was much easier than the heavy streamer.  As I stripped it back toward me, without warning, I had a vicious strike, which took me by surprise, and I set the hook too soon which pulled it out of the fish's mouth, but I had just witnessed what the buzz was all about.  A grin spread across my face, and at that point, just seeing that exchange, I was content.  I quickly chucked the mouse back out into the water, and this time, I was able to land a nice Bear River cutthroat.  I don't think it was as large as the first one, but I did not care.  All of the frustration from the past day and a half receded into distance memory.  Something had worked!  I continued to throw the mouse, and cast after cast, I had violent hits.  I hooked a few, a few missed, and I landed a couple.  One fish broke the water surface and launched the mouse, and I saw its silhouette tumbling through the air.  It was spectacular.  The two biggest fish got off, wriggling the hook out of their mouth in the copious moss that lined the reservoir but created excellent feeding habitat.  One of them was an absolute tank.  I couldn't see it of course by that time, but I could feel it.  It would have been epic, but the amount of action I had in that hour plus of fishing was well worth the drive and effort to get there.  When I returned the waders Saturday evening, the same guy who was at the shop the day before asked me how it went, and when I told him I hooked more than ten fish, he said two to three is a great day there.  Take that, self-doubt!

The weather on Saturday flip-flopped multiple times on the NOAA forecast with it initially looking like better weather in the morning then storms moving in during the late afternoon/evening hours.  The next time I looked, it had completely reversed and then back again.  So my initial plan was to sleep in a little and head out mid afternoon.  Well, I slept like shit and woke up by five-thirty.  I took my time and enjoyed my breakfast of oatmeal, bacon, and half a blueberry bagel with cream cheese and my customary glass of chocolate milk.  My trend on this trip had been a big breakfast, some fruit for lunch, and a smallish meal for dinner.  Usually at altitude I'm not really hungry, but that never applies to breakfast! After breakfast, I checked the weather, and sure enough, it had flip flopped back to better weather in the AM and growing stormy mid afternoon.  I took a couple of hours and drove up Big Cottonwood Canyon thinking I might fish one of the streams around there, but really I ended up gawking at the scenery and found myself at the end of the canyon and out of water to fish.  Since I still had the waders for the rest of the day, I headed south toward a small uncrowded stream the guy at the fly shop told me about.  Along the way, I drove across a beautiful mountain pass that still had a fair amount of aspen leaves hanging on for a bit longer.  There were also burn scars from a fire a few years ago.  Once at the main river, I turned up a forest road to fish one of the tributaries, parking in an empty but open campground.  The water level was decent, not too low for this time of year, so I hiked around fishing some small pocket water unsuccessfully and losing a few flies in the process, out of practice among small confines of skinny water.  I eventually worked upstream of where I parked where I heard a fish rise just above me.  I moved upward and put a cast in the vicinity and immediately had a take but did not hook it.  A few more casts through and same thing, takes but no makes!  I changed flies frequently because after a few passes through, they were not interested.  I finally caught a good rainbow for that creek on a small missing link caddis.  After releasing it and because I had harassed those fish for a while, I decided to move on, and by this time, the menacing clouds I was expecting had begun to move in on me.  With a drive across a mountain pass required to get back to my hotel, I decided to head out and get back before the weather got too bad, and besides, April was coming over for our Real Housewives party!  I made it back to Park City before the rain and howling wind came through, returning the waders, grabbing a small pizza since today I skipped lunch again.  April got there a little earlier than she expected, so as she was settling in, I ducked into my wing of the suite and took a quick shower.  We binge watched a few ridiculous episodes before heading to bed with plans to explore Park City the next morning.  

We drove partway up the pass to Big Cottonwood to check out the fresh snowfall before heading back to historic Main Street in Park City mid-morning to have some coffee and explore the many shops before meeting up with James for late lunch/early dinner back in SLC.  After our meal, I headed to my airport hotel and dropped off my rental car as I could take the complimentary shuttle the next morning.  All in all, it was a great trip that did not go at all how I expected, but while the fishing was maybe a little less than I hoped, the mousing was a highlight.  More than anything though, I was and am thankful to spend time with my friend and proud of myself for the perseverance- through weather challenges, self-doubt, and unrealized expectations.  No one likes getting older, but I can truly say the wisdom and understanding I've gained are worth it.  The me of five years ago would not have handled this the way 45 year old me did, and I am proud of my growth as a person and as a fly fisherperson!