The Same Spring Break but Different

Poised to make our annual spring pilgrimage to Paradise Valley, we had to wrestle with some different circumstances than in previous years.  After returning from a wonderful trip to Argentina in December, I contracted COVID-19, testing positive a couple of days after we arrived home (I am sure I got it in the Houston airport because Texas sucks).  So I had to eat into my PTO bank for another week.  Then about a month later, I came down with a horrible cold and missed another week of work.  This was more sickness than I've had in any period of my life, which was incredibly frustrating in general and even more so when I realized I needed to conserve my vacation days to ensure I have enough for summer and a fall trips.  I am lucky to be able to flex my schedule around to an extent, and I was able to secure Wed-Sun off by working my usual off day, Monday, the week we left.  I'm always happy to get away, but I really wanted more time away as things at work were less than optimal and to be frank, annoying as hell.  Admittedly, these frustrations were really getting to me, to both of us, but we took off on Wednesday evening and hoped for the best.  We resolved to drive straight to Missoula despite knowing we wouldn't arrive until 2 am at best.  We actually made really good time and rolled in just after 2:15 after a rather uncomplicated drive and zero pass issues thanks to unseasonably warm temps.  We grabbed a few hours of sleep and headed toward the Madison River to fish after lunch before heading on to Livingston that evening.  

El Niño giveth, and El Niño taketh away.  What was our good travel fortune with warm temps and no snow meant low water levels on the river.  Still fishable, but not ideal.  We had a rough day of fishing, with Shaun landing a nice fish but otherwise, not much to celebrate aside from Birch making a new river friend.  The winds began to howl, and with less than stellar fishing, we decided to make our way toward Livingston, stopping in Big Sky to grab Pinky G's to lift our dampened spirits.  Along the drive, we spotted a lone moose grazing uphill of the highway.  We arrived to our cabin in South Glastonbury along the mighty Yellowstone at twilight and quickly unloaded our things.  The cabin was nice and spacious, and we relaxed with a beverage and made our plan for the next morning.  

The next morning, I ventured out to peep the sunrise from out front of the cabin.  It was one for the books- vibrant pinks, oranges, and purples against the Absaroka peaks.  I was testing out my new Sony A7cr, and while I wasn't fully briefed on all of its functions, it still produced some great shots.  We headed to the fly shop in Livingston to grab a few flies before heading to the creek.  We had mostly clear skies with a few hazy clouds, no wind, and comfortable temps.  At our first stop, we saw some rising fish, but we had difficulty casting to them from that vantage, so we decided to venture around the other side of the creek for better access and better presentation.  Unfortunately, the fish were super spooky.  We stayed well away from the bank, but every step we took, we saw fish scatter, seeking more cover and refuge.  The creek was low as well, and this combined with glassy water and bright sun just made for a miserable day of grinding.  Miserable in the sense we didn't catch anything (had a couple of half hearted takes), but it was still hard to beat the weather, fishing in summer shirts with no wind.  I also learned how to remove an embedded hook thanks to Shaun lodging one deep in his thumb.  It also reinforced the importance of pinching the barbs before you attempt to tie the tippet to the fly.  Ouch.  We decided to grind it out for few more hours but then figured it was time to call it a day and regroup for tomorrow.  Heading back, we had some leftover pizza with a few beers as we watched the sunset from the porch.  

The next morning was even sunnier, and that feeling of potentially being skunked decided to try and creep into my psyche.  Battling those thoughts, I decided to embrace whatever awaited us.  We moved around our familiar spots, with the same issues as the day before, low water, spooky fish, and very few bugs.  Finally, around 12:30, we found a pod of fish rising aggressively and without hesitation.  It was so weird as they were in a relatively sheltered area of the creek with little wind, full sun, and tons of birds of prey in the vicinity.  Despite that, there were BWOs hatching everywhere, and the fish were cleaning up!  Shaun caught the first large rainbow, then me, then him, then me.  We were both so relieved and felt validated that our resolve had yielded success.  We broke for lunch, and at that point the winds came on really strong.  We battled through them for a bit, but it eventually became too much.  We had another issue brewing as a snowstorm was predicted to hit mid-day on Saturday and threaten not only our ability to fish the Madison on Saturday as planned but our ability to get home on Sunday as well.  It was a tough call, but we knew what we had to do.  I had wanted to drive through YNP as we did every April, but without condensed trip, I didn't know if there would be time, which was really disappointing.  We decided to drive toward the park but detour into Tom Miner Basin since we were getting off the water earlier than expected.  There are tons of grizzlies in Tom Miner, and even though the odds of driving upon a grizzly are low, we decided it was worth the try and also to explore a new area.  Well, we didn't see a grizzly, but we did see a bobcat- my first sighting ever and one of my favorite species!  It was tough to get any good photos as it scampered away, but I got one decent one (below).  We also saw up-close some of the devastation from the floods, this time from the other side of the river, which was pretty staggering.  Eventually, it was time to head back to the cabin to pack up in order to leave out the next morning.  

We had an uneventful trip home, even had time to stop for breakfast at Cracker Barrel in Missoula, timing the weather perfectly. All in all, not the vacation we expected, but I'm still thankful for the time away and the unique experiences this trip brought.  And of course, we'll be back for more.

Labor Day 2023

Each year when Labor Day rolls around, it signals the unofficial end to summer for many people.  For those of us who don't enjoy recreating among hoards of people, it's the last torturous march of the Jerry patrol before trail traffic eases and we stand a chance of having some lesser known hikes mostly to ourselves, at least on weekdays.  Last year we backpacked into Pipe Lake, just off the PCT near White Pass.  We were lucky to have a secluded campsite and only a few quiet people across the lake (though we did later run into a sketchy backcountry militia camp).  It's an easy hike in, about 5.5 miles with a stream crossing and only one short section of any notable elevation gain.  Unfortunately, the weather for the weekend did not look promising past Sunday afternoon, which thwarted our plans for a more ambitious alpine trip for some possible golden trout, so we settled for an overnighter with hopes of similar solitude.  We arrived early to the trailhead and were able to park on the side of the highway, passing through the campground to hit the trail.  We made quick work of the stream crossing and incline section, before taking a left at the Cramer Lake junction and heading toward Dumbbell Lake.  We paused at lake for a brief period as last year when we hiked past, it was socked in, and we could barely see anything.  It's a nice looking lake with some convenient campsites which were already occupied by backpackers.  Away from the lake we reached a junction with the PCT and headed north, reaching Pipe Lake just a few short minutes later where some kids were fishing (loudly).  We could see our campsite from the previous year was available, so we skirted the lake on a user trail before descending back toward the lake and setting up our campsite.  There is a large group campsite across the lake, and there was a multigenerational family group set up, music blaring, kids screaming, and grandpas deciding to skinny dip to try and impress some PCTers who had stopped for a break and to filter some water.  In short, they were all disgusting people who had little regard for anyone around them, and unfortunately, the sound carried loudly across the lake, right to our campsite.  Fortunately, they quieted down for a couple of hours mid-day, but it was short lived.  We tried to make the best of it, but honestly, it was pretty unenjoyable and we couldn't wait for it to get dark.  We fished for a while, each catching good sized cutthroat on dry flies.  We ate dinner by the lake and watched the sun go down behind the trees and the lake turn tranquil.  The lake turned tranquil, the backcountry Clampetts did not.  It is always disappointing to be in a beautiful place to enjoy the scenery and environment and wanting to leave because there are inconsiderate people who only care about their own experience.  I wish I could say they quieted down as it got dark and we climbed into our tent to sleep, but they did not.  We rose early, enjoyed some peace and quiet with a side of oatmeal before packing up and heading out to enjoy the rest of the weekend at home, noting signs of impending fall in the crisp morning air and bronzing trail foliage.