Summer Vacation 2023

Having secured two work weeks off and counting weekends, we had sixteen days to explore and roam with our new camper in tow.  At the top of our agenda was returning to the Wind River Range for an extended backpacking trip as well as fishing some new to us waters on both sides of the range.  The Winds received an abundant amount of snow and coupled with a cold and rainy start to spring and early summer, we knew there was a risk of our objectives being inaccessible.  Cross-referencing blog posts, weather reports, satellite images, and conversations with rangers and local outdoor shops, we had changed our route at least three times to hopefully avoid hazardous water crossings and snow covered trails.  We decided to take the chance and regroup if needed.    

It took us two good days of driving to Cody, Wyoming where we snuck an evening in on the Wood River, which unfortunately confirmed our suspicions- the water was going to be high everywhere.  We did the best we could, catching several small fish on the Wood with many of our prime spots being inaccessible due to water levels.  Even though it wasn't what he had hoped, it felt good to stretch the legs, let the pup run, and actually wet a line.  

Heading down to the Wood

I'm really good at finding these

High water... ugh

Found a few little ones anyway

Searching

Some cool features with the high water

After several small brook trout, a cutthroat

The next day we would drive to Lander as we had reserved some private land on the Upper and Lower Sweetwater River for the next one and two days respectively.  We stopped into the local fly shop where we chatted with a particularly unhelpful associate who apparently can't tell clouds from snow cover on the satellite imagery.  I spoke with a forest service employee who had been up in our desired zone a week earlier.  She reported melt off had occurred on the trail but that conditions overall were a muddy, swampy mess.  We slowly began to accept that our dream hike/backpack wasn't going to happen.  Thus far, every stop had been pretty disappointing, and our stress levels were pretty high as it felt like we were continuously spinning our wheels while getting further and further from the places that were hike-able or fishable.  We figured the Sweetwater would also be far too high to fish, but what we wanted more than anything was to get out of cities/towns and get away from everyone/everything.  The drive to the river was long, traveling dusty roads through huge swaths of farm and ranch land.  As we wound through the steppe like landscape, an oasis began to emerge, and we knew we were close.  Dropping down to the river, we found the designated area and set about to deploy the camper.  The set-up is remarkably simple, and after only about 20 minutes, we walked over to the water to have a look.  High and faster than we'd like, but it wasn't awful.  We had some lunch and then walked about a mile downstream, fishing along the way.  I had one hit, and we saw one fish rise, but otherwise, it seemed pretty dead.  We walked back to the camper and relaxed for a bit, had an early dinner and decided to walk upstream this time.  We saw some fish rise.  I had one fish tight to the bank hit my fly three times, all misses, but it was still nice to have some action.  A robust drake hatch started to emerge, and then we saw more rises, but not near as many as we expected given how many bugs were around.  I had another fish on the swing before Shaun hooked and hauled in a beautiful brown trout on a crippled green drake.  It was a striking fish.  We got some pics and never got another fish into the net.  As the sun set, we headed back to the camper and sat by the fire and watched the mosquitoes and some unintelligent caddis fly into the citronella candle hot wax.  I fired off some Milky Way shots over the camper just before midnight before we both fell fast asleep, more content but still feeling like something was missing. 

Red Canyon

H O M E

More high water

Set-up complete (except for the awning)

If we ever needed a beer...

Even though the conditions were subpar, it was beautiful

Another place where we caught nothing

Heading toward slightly more productive water

Took a cripple drake

Someone is ready for dinner

This was ours, not his

Easy to match the hatch

Sleep late boy

Breakfast view

One last attempt to catch fish

Dogs don't care if you don't catch fish

Camp Milky Way

We fished early the next morning with no luck and then had some decisions to make.  The Lower Sweetwater was in worse shape than the Upper based on reports, and we had just about enough of subpar conditions, so we decided to drive toward Jackson and fish the Hoback which was reportedly fishing great.  The plan was to fish there and then float the Green in the coming days.  Upon arriving in Pinedale and visiting the fly shop, it became apparent we also weren't going to be fishing the Green.  Because of the subpar conditions across the region, visitors were all funneled to the same areas, and the shuttle services were maxed out, completely booked.  We decided to cut our losses, find a dispersed campsite and then head to the Henry's Fork the next day.  The fishing on the Hoback was terrible, but we were able to revisit one of our favorite dispersed campsites from years before and enjoy a picturesque sunset before continuing our journey to find fishable conditions.  

High water again

Visited an old favorite

Birchie's first time here

Winding down the evening

Nothing better than this right here

Looking for chipmunks

Still looking for chipmunks

Moved on to begging

We arrived in Ashton, ID and headed to an uncrowded campground we had stayed at several years ago.  I was personally growing tired of digging catholes, so the thought of having even a pit toilet was an improvement.  With the explosion of people in the outdoors, we realized we may have overestimated our chances of finding a camp spot.  "Campground Full" greeted us when we pulled into the drive behind several other cars.  I had a feeling though, so we stayed in line to chat with the campground host.  As luck would have it, there was a cancellation that day for the precise number of days we needed, so we took literally the last spot in the whole campground.  Relieved, we quickly found our site and began setting up the camper.  We were on an end in a small cul-de-sac, and next to us was a literal chuckwagon setup.  This guy spent his whole day cooking, cleaning, and seasoning his many cast iron skillets, dutch ovens, and more.  He even wore spurs on his boots.  Quite the setup, but they were polite and quiet- perfect neighbors.  

It takes all kinds

Who knew chuck wagon life was a full-time job

Long boy

We headed to a fly shop to get some more intel on current conditions and found our favored spots to not be fishing all that well.  The trend continues.  The next morning we headed out with some intel on a few bluelining options which turned out to be awful advice and caused a near breaking point of frustration, but eventually, of our own accord, we stumbled upon a promising stretch of water.  We got into a few fish and decided to come back to the same spot the next day.  The next day proved much more productive.  It was there where I hooked into a massive brown trout that exploded on a purple chubby floating through a riffle.  It was into my backing almost immediately, screaming downriver, and I really had no chance.  Nothing could slow down that fish, and I was just grateful for the encounter and to still have my fly.  Shortly after I hooked into a sizable rainbow trout that I did manage to get to the net followed by another, but it was difficult not to ponder what might have been.  The next morning we planned to fish a stretch of the Henry's Fork closer to our campground.  Warmer temps had been plaguing these stretches of water and despite getting out at a reasonable time, it became apparent we were not going to have a banner day in this area and we both began to feel that familiar feeling of frustration begin to creep in again.  We were tired of grinding, so we decided to suck it up and drive the couple of hours to the Madison where the water was nice and cold, and the fishing was consistent.  Upon arrival, we found one of our favorite spots and got into a few risers but couldn't make any of them stick.  It just felt good to have consistent action and rising fish.  After a short break, we headed upriver to one of the most obvious spots and found our favorite hole to be occupied by a group of four, so we walked upstream even further, fishing pocket water while watching over our shoulder as the group of four hauled in multiple fish.  To our surprise, they wrapped it up and left, so we quickly pounced on the spot.  They had been fishing nymphs, but as we settled in the caddis hatch started to really go off, and soon we had fish rising everywhere to just a smattering of bugs.  It really became a game of luck at that point with so many bugs on the water, you had to hope yours landed in the right place.  Presentation didn't matter, the fish were feeding with reckless abandon.  It was truly a prolific and magical hatch.  Only one other group was even around, and they were far upstream and looking for dinner with no interest in leaving their spot.  They filled their creel, soon we were alone again and fished pleasantly till dark.    

Looking down at the river from the overlook

The trail down

More river views

And more steps

The boys

Where that big brown lives

On the prowl

Always great to wet wade

The menu

The real thing

Enjoying some quiet surroundings

Some of the pools upriver.  Shaun caught a huge sucker here

A nice bow but not as nice as that brown I missed

Sleepy boy

The next morning we decided to try out a couple of spots along the Henry's Fork closer to our campground.  Everything seemed pretty dead.  Not many bugs, and no people.  Usually we are happy with no people, but in this case, it meant the fishing probably sucked.  We decided to drive the extra distance and go fish the old, reliable Madison.  We would fish the late afternoon and try to catch the evening caddis hatch.  We fished downriver for a while, catching a few fish before moving upstream to the lucky section.  Unsurprisingly, our favorite spot was occupied, mostly nymphing and absolutely killing it.  Nothing wrong with that, but were a little sad fearing we wouldn't get to fish there or that it would be slow  since they had caught so many fish.  People started to file out as the sun began its descent and were replaced by only a couple tried and true locals who knew to keep moving and not crowd, so we elected to give our favorite spot a try.  As we approached sunset, the caddis began swirling profusely, and soon after the fish became super active.  We caught so many fish and hooked even more.  It was a feeding frenzy.  Soon we were the only ones left, and once the fish had their fill, we made our way back to camp for a late dinner.

The Madison is always good to us

Crossing some threads

Fishing through a small hatch

Grateful for good conditions finally

Beating the heat

Evening caddis hatch going off

Seriously

Seriously going off

Nice brown

The blue cheek on this one

Inspector inspecting

Break time

While in Pinedale a few days earlier, we decided to go ahead and book a day on the spring creek near Livingston where go at least twice a year which left us with a transition day.  We decided to drive up Gallatin Gateway and fish the Gallatin River in the meadows just outside the national park.  There were several people out fishing, but we found an expansive roadside pull-out and took the truck and camper down near the water where there was one other truck.  We looked around and verified that person had walked a suitable distance for us to be able to fish here.  It was quite windy, and the biting flies were terrible anywhere except right in the river.  Great for the one fishing, not great for Birch and the one of us sitting with him to make sure we spotted any potential people or wildlife.  That's just how we have to do things with a reactive dog.  For the first 45 minutes or so, we didn't really see any fish rising though they should have been.  We took turns fishing a short run in front of the truck.  I decided to fish it once more, working in behind Shaun.  Up against the opposite bank I had seen a fish rise a couple of times.  I put on a small mayfly and finally coaxed it up from its holding area.  It was a decent sized cutthroat but very beautiful.  We decided to work upstream, navigating through dense willows, keeping alert for moose as this was ideal habitat for them.  We found a nice run with a cutbank on the opposite side and several trout feeding there and in the middle of the swirling riffle.  Shaun fished this area mostly, but we just couldn't get a fish to stay on and get it to net.  It was still nice to have the action, but I could tell he was frustrated.  Having reached the heat of the day and not wanting to stress the fish in those temps, we headed for Big Sky as they now had a Pinky G's Pizzeria, a favorite of ours from Jackson, WY.  About 20 minutes out and as soon as I had service, I called ahead to place an order, and they put me on hold as it sounded quite busy in the background.  I was on hold for a long time and contemplated hanging up and calling again, but I figured if I was on hold, no one else was calling ahead to place orders.  We arrived, found a large parking area for the camper/truck, and I walked over to place an order in person, still on hold.  There was a long line in front of me, most people dining in, but I kept my call running until I reached the register to place our order.  Once it was in, the guy told me it would be 45 minutes.  He looked like he was ready for me to yell at him, which is understandable after I witnessed the interactions between him and the entitled customers ahead of me in line.  I told him not a problem and that I understood how busy they were.  He seemed relieved, and I headed back to the truck to wait.  We fed Birch while we waited and enjoyed the breeze which provided some respite from the intensifying heat.  Pizza consumed, we headed to Livingston where we decided to check into a hotel for two nights so we could have showers and do some laundry.  Besides, finding last minute camping around Yellowstone during the peak of vacation season was not something we wanted to deal with.  

Wildflowers along the Gallatin

Nice spot but no fish

Lupine

Heading to the river

Okay water but not much going on

To the meadows

Maybe there will be some fish here

There's at least one

Buddies

Seeking shade

Trying to beat the bugs and the heat

More fish rising now

Love this setup

Time to go

It's been too long

Hotel boy

The next morning, it was still pretty breezy, but not unbearable and certainly helpful when fishing a spring creek.  We went through our customary check in procedures in the out of place antebellum style mansion and then headed to our familiar spots.  I hooked up with a massive brown by casting a small beetle tight to the opposite bank.  I was super excited, and so was Birch, for as we got it close to the net, Birch bounded into the water.  The fish was spooked and gave one more violet twist, dislodging the hook and fleeing back into the current and out of sight.  I'm not going to lie, I was so mad, but since Birch doesn't speak human English, I had to let it go and get over it.  He's usually pretty good, and we manage him tightly around fish, but we just didn't get it right this time.  I would have another chance soon after with another brown, only this one broke off the fly.  Grrrr!  Still frustrated, I hopped out and gave Shaun a turn.  Wouldn't you know it, he caught a textbook brown trout, yellow and buttery.  Swallowing my pride and congratulating him, we took a few photos before letting him swim away, the fish, not Shaun.  Birch was much more well behaved this time.  We wanted a slam, which would mean catching each of the three species in the creek: brown, rainbow, and cutthroat.  Heading to another familiar stretch, I was able to check the cutthroat off my list with a nicely colored fish that rose from the opposite cutbank that I managed to keep from wrestling off in the algae.  Midday the fishing action cooled considerable, so we drove to the periphery of the property and had a late lunch overlooking the banks of the mighty Yellowstone River.  The 270 degree awning on the truck provided ample shade and we each dozed in our camp chairs.  Late afternoon passed, and we headed back to our lucky spot to fish the evening as the day wound to a close.  There were lots of different bugs, mayflies, caddis, and even a few terrestrials.  I caught a rainbow and was 2/3 of the way to the slam when I hooked up with another good brown trout.  I got it six inches from the net, and it wiggled off the hook.  It just wasn't my day to get the spring creek slam.  Oh well.  Collectively, we got it.  As the sun began to set, we enjoyed the alpenglow on the Abasarokas in the distance and watched some young bucks cross the creek and shoot up the hillside through the tall grass, leaping over the fence effortlessly, their stubby velvet antlers silhouetted against the receding backlight.  

One of the best places

Wild boy

The best run

Lovely morning scenes

Still water for  a while

Fishing through high sun

Just a beautiful brown

Perfect

And a perfect cutthroat

Lunch boy

Lunch spot

The Yellowstone

When Shaun asks me why his neck hurts...

Back to it

Thankful for some clouds

Watching the fish rise

Fish running under the bridge

Hard to beat the views

Approaching golden hour

Waiting for the fishing to pick up

Must sniff everything

Rainbow: check

Love this dog and this place

Absaroka mountains

Scenic boy

Sun going down

Soft sunset glow

Over it boy

Intrigued by the deer

How close I was to my spring creek slam

Always a great time

The next morning we headed toward Glen to find some camping before leaving out on our backpacking trip the following morning.  We found a great site along Birch Creek, about 45-60 minutes from our trailhead.  Mileage wise, it was much closer, but having negotiated the forest road to that trailhead before, we knew it would take a while.  After settling in and getting the camper set up, we set about treating our hiking clothes and Birch's harness/collar with permethrin to keep the mosquitoes at bay.  We cooked some ribeyes, potatoes, squash, and zucchini for dinner before some last minute packing and gear inventory.  We slept soundly and woke early the next morning just as the sun was rising in hopes of getting an early start and some extra fishing time.  

Camp

Dinner time

Ceremonial steak, potatoes, and veggies before hiking

The road to the trailhead was as awful as we remembered, but we arrived at the trailhead with only two other cars and a set of quads, albeit later than intended.  We set out and made pretty quick work of the forested section, soon moving in to a less dense area where the trail climbed more earnestly.  It was mid morning, and the sun shone high in the sky already.  We stopped to give Birch water a couple of times, but overall, we were making great time.  We arrived to the first lake just before 11 am after 4.5 miles of hiking, where was stopped to eat the leftover breakfast burritos we made that morning.  A nice guy came over to ask if he could pet our dog, and while we appreciated his deference, the answer was of course no.  He was very understanding of our boundary once we explained the reactivity issues.  He was an older man who had lost his dog earlier in the year, so I empathized with his desire to pet a cuddly looking boy.  He was up with a friend to camp at the first lake but take a day trip to the second lake which required off trail travel and some navigational skills.  He told us he thought he saw a big group of scouts heading up, so we decided to skip fishing the first lake and head to the second straightaway. The guy also told us of the issues plaguing the lakes in this area- stunted fish from overstocking.  As nicely as I can put this, most people are full of shit.  I had checked the stocking records and had personal experience seeing the size of the fish in the second lake only a couple of summers prior.  I am sure he meant well and thought his information was accurate, but we remained skeptical though didn't try to correct him.  We set out soon toward the other lake and prove him wrong and ourselves right.  The first time we navigated to the second lake, it was a nightmare, but this time was much easier and faster.  We arrived after only 20 minutes or so of hiking, opting to contour instead of trying to go up and over as some of the misplaced cairns would have you do.  Waving to our friend on the east side of the lake, we crossed over the outlet stream (where we already saw some good sized fish) and made our way around to a flat area protected from the wind and sun by boulders and some stunted alpine growth trees.  We set our tend up quickly, and I elected to rest, and Shaun elected to fish.  Around three, I decided to join him.  I went with my favorite alpine lake fly, Amy's Ant, and it was after only a couple of casts that I reeled in my first Yellowstone Cutthroat, long and skinny but nicely colored.  After we caught the first one, the action was pretty much non-stop for three hours, and the fish got larger and more colorful.  I have no idea how many fish we caught because, but it was essentially a hit every cast.  Birch couldn't decide which ones to inspect- mine or Shaun's, so he just ran between us mostly.  A forest service ranger passed by and chatted with us for a minute.  He was heading over the peak to scout for mountain goats as part of a wildlife study he was conducting.  He asked if we had seen any, which we hadn't, and then he was on his way.  We fished till nearly seven before deciding to eat dinner.  After dinner, we sat and enjoyed the setting sun behind the massive cirque around the lake.  

Up early

Leaving the forested section, first views

First lake

Navigating off trail

Home for the night

Hanging with boy

Naps

Shaun fishing

Fish inspector reporting for duty

Working hard

Cooling off in the snow

Continued

Organizing food

Still more naps

A lot of great water here

Wading

Colored up

One of many

Super colorful

I mean

Amy's Ant, the alpine assassin

Such beautiful fish

Sunset

The night was quite windy, but had died down by the time I rose to photograph the sunrise, which comes early in July.  We threw on our down coats and headed back to the outlet crossing to get a more expansive view of the mountains as the sun rose behind us.  I have never seen such a fiery alpenglow, and it was flawlessly reflected in the glassy water.  As the sun rose higher, fish begin to rise, periodically interrupting the still water.  Once everything was illuminated, we headed back to our camp to make breakfast around the fire pit.  We don't build fires in the backcountry, especially during fire season, so we put the jetboil to work to prepare oatmeal and hot chocolate and coffee.  Once full fledged daytime arrived, we decided to fish a bit more and continued to catch multiple fish though not as frequently as the day prior.  I took a break and scrambled up a ways to get a different vantage point, finding more profuse wildflowers and a waterfall draining into the lake.  I didn't see the mountain goats rumored to live in the area, but I enjoyed looking down at the lake, Shaun and Birch passing the time casting to hungry cutthroat.  

Blue Hour

Alpenglow

Absolute scenes

Enjoying the view

Sunrise boy

Waiting for a little more sun

Oatmeal, coffee, and hot chocolate time

World's worst trowel

A few last beauties

No wind today

A little scrambling

Reflections

Mini lupine

Views

The boys down below

Sun overtaking camp

Time to go

Route finding back to the trail

Keeping an eye out for familiar landmarks since the cairns were all over the place

Laughing at where the cairns direct people

Last look at the first lake

It was now mid-morning, and despite the fact we had planned to stay two nights, we both felt content to leave and look for some adventure elsewhere as we wound down our trip.  We decided to work our way hone over the weekend by spending a couple of days on the St Joe and relaxing.  Packing up camp, we made it down to the car very quickly and devoured our sandwiches, Snickers, and lots of salty potato chips.  Arriving in Missoula to transition back to camper mode, we noticed a significant increase in temperature.  Checking the weather, we saw there was a heat dome forecasted to hit in full force tomorrow and last into the next week.  The only part of the region spared was western Washington.  We were disappointed the conditions had interrupted our plans yet again, but there's nothing that can be done. We decided to stay in a hotel that night to shower and avoid the heat.  We left super early the next morning, trying to get through eastern Washington before the hottest part of the day.  We were home by mid afternoon, closing the chapter on another great vacation.