Summer Vacation 2024

 In the midst of the all too regular July heatwaves of the last few years, we headed east to spend a week and a half fishing, camping, and backpacking in Southwest Montana.  Unlike prior years where we moved locations every couple of days, we elected to make two basecamps only 30 minutes or so apart.  Of course if you are regular reader of my blog, you know things seldom ever go to plan, and this year was no different.  Our original plan was to leave Wednesday mid afternoon, but with temperatures predicted to reach the upper 90s in Missoula, Shaun took the day off, and we left out of Olympia around 4 am, pushing through central WA and up and over the passes before temperatures reached their peaks.  Pulling the camper, the extra demand on the truck is really noticeable in high temps, and it's just not comfortable to get out of the car and take Birch to do his business while worrying about his paw pads burning on the pavement.  

  We arrived at the hotel in Missoula around 2:30 pm, after having lunch and fueling up for the next day's trip to the Madison.  Unfortunately, the hotel room was not quite ready, so we sat under a shade tree and had a vacation beer.  Once in the room, we cranked up the A/C and relaxed after our early morning and long, though uncomplicated drive.  We slept in a bit the next morning and arrived to our reserved campsite along the Madison River around 11:30 am on Thursday, pleased to find it unoccupied so we could check in early.  We went about the usual routine of setting up the camper- raising the pop-up roof, popping out the bed area, and extending the awning for some much needed shade from the unseasonably warm temperatures.  Typical temps for this area are usually low to mid 80's, but during the week we were there, it was climbing into the low to mid 90's.  Though the stretch we were fishing was not subject to Hoot Owl closures (where the river closes from 2pm to midnight due to high temps to reduce the stress on the fish), we were inflicting our own personal closures because it just felt like the right thing to do. We would plan to stop fishing around lunch and not start again until early evening when the caddis hatches would begin to pop.  Aside from the heat, two other pesky variables were immediately apparent- swarths of mosquitoes and hordes of biting flies.  They were both excessive and relentless.  It made for pretty miserable times during mid-day, especially with the heat.  Luckily we brought along a pop up bug tent which gave us some respite, but truthfully, many still found their way through.  Honestly, our first couple of days were rough.  The fishing was okay, but the conditions overall were just really difficult with the heat and the bugs, not to mention an unfortunate accident where Shaun stepped on and broke one of my fly rods the first day and followed that up with leaving his phone on the truck bumper as we drove away on the highway.  We found it on the roadside the next morning, shattered.  If you're thinking bad things happen in threes, you'd be right.  The night the phone was shattered was extra spicy because of severe thunderstorms with impressive electrical displays across the night sky.  We calculated the lightning to be less than a mile away with many streaks running across the sky just behind our campsite.  We had intended to go out fishing late to try mousing for big brown trout, but as we pulled out of the campground and onto the highway (where the phone met its demise), the thunder and lightning really ratcheted up and put an end to our hopes.  Shaun spent a couple of hours walking up and down the forest road and through the campground looking for his phone.  We couldn't call it because he didn't have service, which also rendered the "find my iPhone" service useless as well.  Stress levels were definitely elevated and weren't assuaged any at all when the next day on the way back from a quick trip into West Yellowstone, we noted smoke billowing from a peak near the starting point of our backpacking destination.  The lightning from the night before had actually ignited two fires in the area.  Every event felt like another omen and gnawed at that inner doubt as to whether we should even be in this part of Montana.  Conditions were so touchy- hot, dry, windy and a new red flag warning for probable wildfire conditions.  After some tough conversations, we decided to abandon our initial backpacking plan (obviously) and also any back-up locations we had in that region.  Thunderstorms are common occurrences on summer evenings, and neither of us wanted to be many miles into the forest and at the mercy of the volatile weather.  Though we were disappointed, I think we both felt a sense of relief even though there was some uncertainty about what our next moves would be.  I spent so much time researching the area and planning, I felt let down but knew we had made the right call.

We had to force him to stay in the bug tent

Camp neighbor had good taste in dogs.  Everywhere that dog peed, Birch peed.  Boys.

Yeah, not going in there

Back to the fishing.  As expected, the river was crowded, though we were able to find some pockets to ourselves.  The fishing pressure was high and it brought with it the familiar feeling of competition for spots, which I absolutely and utterly loathe.  To me it truly antithetical to fly fishing- slowing down, appreciating the surroundings, none of that is possible when you are focused on beating someone to a spot or worrying about someone walking up on your fishing spot.  Thursday evening and Friday morning were pretty slow for us fishing wise.  We had some action, Shaun caught a nice rainbow near Three Dollar, and I hooked and lost several fish, a couple of which felt pretty big.  Finally on Saturday things started to turn around for us.  We got to our spot really early and each caught some fish, Shaun again catching the biggest.  I talked to a couple of nice people, one guy who had to chase a fish down to where I was fishing to net it.  We chatted for a bit and ended up running into him that evening as well where we discussed the prior night's storms.  He told us he felt electrical charges in his hands and arms as he was walking out of the water and so did his buddies.  We got into a pretty good caddis hatch that evening and caught some nice fish.  We even stayed late so I could throw a mouse for a few minutes looking for a monster brown which proved futile.  It was still worth it.  

Treat pocket

Side quest to Bozeman to get Shaun a new phone... and ice cream

We intended to drop the camper off in a parking area as we headed out for a day hike on the way to Livingston where we were staying in a hotel the night before we fished the spring creek.  However, somehow we miscalculated the time, distance, or something, and we realized we would not have time to do the hike by the time we got all packed up.  Frustrated and disappointed yet again, we decided to fish the Gallatin on our way to Livingston and grab a pizza from our favorite local pizzeria, Pinky G's (IYKYK).  We found a nice sized pullout that would accommodate the camper and truck and walked down to a nice long run where we were seeing multiple fish rise.  Shaun caught a few nice ones, I caught a decent one and continued to miss on so many fish.  That had been the theme of my trip so far, and I was getting more than a little frustrated. My confidence was really wavering.  We were close to wrapping up, and I decided after seeing exactly two salmon flies that I would put on a big bug and give it a shot upstream in one of the rapids.  After a few casts, the fly bouncing around on the rapids, I saw a fish hover up and take a look before retreating back to the bottom of the river.  Even though there was no take, it was exciting to see a fish that size and validated my fly selection.  I took a few steps downstream and made a few more casts when a big rainbow came up and absolutely smashed my fly.  It took a couple of good runs downriver before I was able to get it to the net.  It was a healthy, chunky fish.  We grabbed a couple of quick pics, careful to keep the fish in the water and away from the warming temps.  We fished a bit longer, though I mostly basked in my long awaited success.  As the air temperature began to climb into the 80's, we elected to give the fish a break and head for pizza.  

Finally a decent fish and on a salmon fly

IYKYK

I'm a sucker for a backlit Old Glory

After enjoying a couple of delicious slices, we headed on to Livingston and checked into the hotel.  We both enjoyed a real shower and spent the rest of the night sorting flies and doing onsite laundry.  We had planned to drive the the spring creek from our campground on Monday morning, but after enduring the heat, the bugs, and getting very little sleep courtesy of our late to bed early to rise schedule, we just couldn't fathom getting up at 4 am and driving 2.5 hours to fish, so we would be enjoying two consecutive hotel nights which neither of us minded as we needed time to regroup regarding our plan for the last week of travel.  

We checked in at the old antebellum style house right at 7:30 the next morning and were the second and third names on the sign-in sheet.  We headed to our first spot and scoured the area for rising fish.  After about 20 or 30 minutes, we started seeing some consistent rises just off the opposite cutbank.  This time, the formula was simple.  They were eating small PMD mayflies.  Shaun put a nice cast in and hooked up with a feisty, acrobatic rainbow which made some jumps and runs downstream before he was able to net it.  Letting the pool rest after the commotion, we began to see rises once again.  Last year I missed multiple nice brown trout and felt determined to get one this year.  I cast into a small recess across the bank and watched a beautiful brown hover up and inhale the fly.  Then the battle was on.  It  leapt into the air multiple times and instead of swimming downstream away from me, it swam upstream, hard.  I always marvel at how such a small fly can stay in the lip of larger fish, but after weathering a few steamrolling runs, Shaun was able to net my beautiful brown.  It was now mid-morning and the sun was heading toward its apex.  After some good action, we decided to move on and explore some there sections of the creek we had yet to do despite our repeated visits over the years.  

Shaun on the board first

My moment shortly after

Dress for the fish you want to catch

We walked to the property boundary which abuts the next spring creek (which is actually the same creek but across a different property line), crossing a culvert to access the bank more easily.  We spied a large brown trout hovering in the moss ,and Shaun put a few perfect casts in,  but there was little movement from the fish.  Sometimes they just aren't feeding and the best thing you can do is move on to a new spot.  There's a spot on the creek that is horrible to access, walking through thick muck that will pull the soles off your shoes, literally.  While it's a PITA to get to, it means it's largely left alone by anglers, in our experience.  We slogged over and saw fish rising in multiple spots.  We tried all the flies recommended by the fly shop, but we weren't getting any takes.  A tried and true approach is to go small, so I tied on the smallest PMD emerger in my box, which I had from a prior trip to the creek.  It was a size 20.  On the second cast, I immediately hooked into a nice brown.  This one was quicker to come to the net though it still had a few cartwheels for me to weather.  With the sun high in the sky at this point, it was a natural time to break for lunch.  Shaun put out the awning over the roadside picnic table, and we enjoyed turkey sandwiches, beer, and watermelon.  

There was a big fish resting next to all that moss

On a size 20 PMD emerger

We fished the creek around the same time last year. The fishing in the morning was really good, and in the afternoon, it was dead.  It seemed atypical, but that was our exact experience this year as well.  We saw multiple hatches but no fish rising.  We moved to multiple spots and still saw no signs of life on topwater.  We tried subsurface flies as well, but the fish just weren't up to it.  Of course the tendency is to think it's your own shortcomings, but we spoke with a couple of other people that day who had the same issues.  We decided to head back to the hotel earlier than we thought, but we also felt satisfied with our time on the creek.  We debated where to take ourselves for the next few days, considering all of the factors including weather, ease of finding last minute camping, and what kind of experience we were after.  As we have done in years past, we settled on the East side of the Pioneer range.  There's a campground where we have never seen more than one or two groups camping at a time, ever.  There are a few lakes there we had hiked to and felt fine to revisit either for overnights or day hikes.  

Sleeping in a bit and in no rush to leave, we took our time having breakfast and organizing our gear for the next few days, heading out around 10:30 am and driving the two hours to our next region.  Just as we expected, we arrived to the campground to see one other campsite occupied, so we chose a site as far away as possible and set up the camper before enjoying a breezy, temperate, and most importantly, bug-free lunch.  We had decided to do an easy overnighter to a previously visited lake, so we went about packing our gear before enjoying our traditional pre-hike steak and veggies and a game of chess, which Shaun won.  

Tradition

Oatmeal and bacon, also a tradition

The road to the trailhead was as awful as we remembered, but we arrived just after 9 am.  The trail is short and relatively flat, really gaining most of the 1500' elevation in the last 1/2 mile, which does make for a bit of a slog.  We made good time despite stopping to photograph the forest floor blanketed with lupine and set up our tent at one of the established campsites near the lake.  The last time we visited this lake midweek, we saw no one, and while we didn't necessarily expect the same this year, we both hoped that would be the case.  After eating lunch, two guys showed up but thankfully with daypacks and fly rods.  We chatted for a minute, and they set about the east side of the lake to fish.  Since we would have the whole day and the next morning, we made our way along the west side of the lake to give the other visitors plenty of space to move around.  According to the stocking schedule, the fish in this lake should be of decent size.  On our prior visit, we caught almost all recently stocked dinks, so we were hoping for better results this year.  We must have caught 100 fish, easily.  Almost every cast we had a hit.  As for size, they were all 10-12", which was disappointing, though the colors on some of the fish were truly spectacular.  The scenery, however, more than made up for it.  We were also grateful to have very few bugs during the day.  We worked our way around the lake as the other fishermen had left, catching more small fish until the late afternoon rain shower started.   It was really only a few sprinkles, but we headed back to the campsite for an early dinner so we could fish the evening.  While we were eating, we noticed Birch constantly licking his right front paw.  Inspecting it, I saw a tear in his paw pad.  Poor buddy.  We cleaned it as well as we could under the circumstances, applied some Neosporin, let it dry, and then applied on of the booties we had brought for situations just like this.  With the boot on, he moved pretty well, with it off, if he tried to run, he limped.  We knew our hiking time this trip was over, which was frustrating, but what can you do?  After fishing a bit longer, we decided to head back to the tent as some darker storm clouds began to rise over the lake.  The mosquitoes intensified as we moved toward nightfall. We watched the sun set until the wind and rain began to intensify and then sought refuge and sleep in the tent.  Another unfortunate development, Shaun's sleeping pad had suffered a puncture at some point, so he spent an uncomfortable night basically on the ground.  As for me, I slept pretty well until my alarm sounded at a quarter past five to allow me to photograph the sunrise and alpenglow cast across the lake and cirque.  One of my favorite things about blue hour is it always seems everything is still and windless, yielding some striking reflections begging to be photographed.  As the sun began to rise, the wind picked up, spoiling my glassy alpenglow reflection, so I had to scramble to another part of the lake, sheltered from the wind.  As morning transitioned to daytime and the photography wrapped up, we made some oatmeal and half PB sandwiches before packing up our gear to hike back to the car.  

Lupine carpet

Most of the elevation gain came in the last half mile, so this was a welcome sight

Filtering water from these streams was delicious

The alpine heather was profuse

Short growing season

My guy

My other guy

Out for one last shot at fish over 12 inches

Evening

Golden hour

Daytime

Great spot

A truly scenic place

The hike down was uneventful, though it's always a relief to see the parking lot (still empty besides us).  Birch wore the boot on his paw which annoyed him but kept him from further irritating it.  In our experience, his paw pads heal pretty quickly, and we were relieved to see it actually looked better than the day before even after hiking out.  Despite that, neither of us felt it was wise or fair to test him with another hike, so despite our original plans to do some day hikes in the area, we decided to leave and drive on to another area, but first, a shower!  The outdoor camper shower actually works quite well and with an abandoned campground, we didn't even have to use the curtain which saved time and struggle.  After showers and some lunch, we packed up and headed toward the West side of the Pioneers, the drive quite picturesque.  The scenic byway was chocked full of camping areas, both established and dispersed.  We easily found a site and were once again pleasantly surprised by the relatively mild temperatures, scant bugs, and some beautiful lodgepole pine trees providing ample shade to our site.  Another night of steak and veggies and chess by the solo stove.  Shaun won again, by the way.

Our mission the next morning was to explore some small creeks and meadows.  We found an empty dispersed site stream side where the creek so skinny you could step across it in some places.  Making short, direct casts with a small purple haze attractor mayfly, I had small strikes immediately.  I landed a nice tiny cutthroat trout, still with its juvenile parr marks.  We worked our way upstream a bit, each catching a few more cutthroat, which we discovered to be Yellowstone strain after we landed some more mature ones to allow us to better discern which subspecies we were dealing with.  We decided to move downstream to a more open meadow area and explore, so driving down the forest road toward the highway we found a large pullout with access to the swampy, willow-strewn meadows.  This was ideal moose habitat but more likely full of cows based on what we saw driving in, but we still took precautions and kept our eyes peeled for shaking willows that could indicate a moose moving about.  The stream was gin clear, no wind, and bright sun, tough prospects for landing fish, but nevertheless, we caught a few with Shaun briefly tangling with about a 12" fish- a monster in this stretch.  We worked upstream toward a small plunging waterfall obstructed by downed trees resembling a beaver dam.  This was sight fishing at its finest as we saw numerous trout milling about.  I floated a small purple haze through some still but structured water and had a pretty good take.  Working the fish toward the bank to avoid disrupting the pool, I was quite surprised to see a brook trout in my net.  The colors were exquisite, soft blue halos surrounding vibrant red specks mixed among the vermiculation markings on its back.  After releasing it, we decided to peak around the plunge pool where we saw a beautiful pool at the base of the run.  We knew we were getting into "just one more bend" situation, but we couldn't resist seeing what was around the corner.  We caught some small rainbows, cutthroat, and brook trout before prying ourselves away to head toward the trunk and lunch.  We headed back to the campground after scouting some areas for the next day.  We took a break for a few hours then decided to head out to the main river along the highway after having an early dinner.  We caught some small cutthroat after scrambling along avalanche chute strewn boulders.  In our last spot, Shaun caught a true trophy on the river, >12", but alas, it went undocumented as it slithered away before I could get a good picture of it.  That night we enjoyed the solo stove, beer, and a chess match that I finally won after two prior failed attempts.  

Little creeks, little gems

The next morning we rose early to check out a ghost town in the area.  Unfortunately some of the more notable features were closed for restoration, but regardless, we still saw many dilapidated homes, schools, and other buildings.  From there we headed to the skinniest of creeks we had scouted the day prior.  Less than two feet wide in some places, we spooked more little fish than we caught, but we still managed to catch several small brookies.  There are a few fluvial grayling scattered in the stream, but on this day there were none to be found for us.  We fished for a bit and then decided we were content with out efforts.  We headed back to the camper mid-morning to pack up and drive to Missoula before making our final push home on Sunday.  As we have come to expect, climate change continues to shape our summer experiences, forcing us to be adaptable and ready to pivot on a whim.  Luckily, with our repeated trips to Montana, we have plenty of options to choose from and always manage to enjoy ourselves.  Until next time...

May-anderings

 With eyes on more ambitious pursuits once summer reaches full swing, it was time to dust off the trekking poles and hit the lowland trails to get the hiking legs in shape.  I've been dealing with some nagging right hip problems, so I'm taking a more systematic approach this year than in prior years where it was just a few sufferfest hikes, then I was ready to go.  I've been focusing less on scenery and more on just putting in miles, but I'll never give up my own personal goal of seeing as few people as possible.  When looking for early season hikes, the Olympic National Forest is hard to beat.  Low-ish elevation river hikes typically fit the bill and offer plenty of options to tailor mileage to my goals.  Since there usually isn't a terminal destination, there's no disappointment in turning around when the body says enough.  

First up was the Lower Big Quilcene trail with options to continue to Notch Pass or intersect with the Upper Big Quilcene trail which eventually leads to Mt Townsend.  My objective was to go past the junction a ways, put in some miles, and possibly scope out some pocket water for some creek fishing once the season commences.  It's a very simple trail for the first couple of miles- level, minimally rocky, and shaded.  When I arrived to the trailhead just before 8 am, there were a couple of cars there and evidence they had camped overnight and likely set out early for an unknown objective.  With no signs of people otherwise, I was able to let Birch walk the trail off his leash.  By walk the trail I of course mean run ahead, turn and look at me, run back, and repeat in perpetuity.  He has excellent recall and is less reactive on his leash, but I am still very vigilant in watching for signs or listening for sounds of people approaching.  Not everyone likes dogs, and I respect that, so he will be on leash if there are people in the vicinity, despite his groany protests.  He peed on a million ferns, did his other business, which I cleaned up and carried with me so as not to litter the trail with unsightly plastic bags that people never seem to pick up on their way out like they promise.  It's a simple solution really, buy a silicone poo bag holder and attach it to your pack.  If you don't like the smell, eat a can of Pringles, save the canister, and put the bag in there.  It's really not that hard to not be a trash hole.  

After passing a couple of nicely constructed wooden bridges, we arrived at Camp Handy which has several lovely camping spots under a canopy of evergreens near the Big Quilcene River.  We poked around a bit before another crossing of the Big Quilcene as it twists, turns, and crashes over mossy boulders.  Shortly after, the junction turning toward Notch Pass is encountered, but we continued along the main trail.  We walked probably another mile and a half, climbing away from the river and dropping down again.  By this time, my hip was speaking a little more loudly to me, so we stepped off trail and down by the river which was more creek like at this time and had our lunch.  After that, as the sun broke through the canopy and blanketed the river, we headed back the way we came, passing a few hikers and a couple of bikers.  Each time I leashed Birch and pulled him off the side of the trail as he does quite well when given enough distance from unfamiliar people. We met a nice Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, and they had a sniff before making our way back to the parking lot.  Our total distance covered that day was around 7.0 miles, and while my hip was pretty sore by the end, it was the type of soreness I knew wouldn't linger and felt encouraged.  

  Our next ramble would be another mostly flat trail with the exception of a reroute due to a slide.  The Dosewallips River Trail itself was born of a similar origin.  The road used to run along the river all the way up to the National Park boundary, but the road was destroyed beyond repair many years ago.  Parking at the new end of the forest road, we set out just before 8 am, enjoying a smooth gravel bed for about a mile before coming to the washout reroute.  The trail climbs abruptly, several hundred feet and traverses high above the river through a wild rhododendron laden forest before dropping the climbed distance back to the road.  Continuing on the road but climbing more gradually, you pass by former campgrounds, over a waterfall, and eventually arrive at the former National Park entrance at about 5.0 miles.  Dogs are technically allowed beyond this point, all the way to the Dosewallips Campground, but since they can't go on any of the trails once there, it seems kind of pointless.  We snacked at the junction and enjoyed watching but mostly listening to numerous hummingbirds buzzing around.  I also spotted a yellow warbler, and we spooked a large grouse.  We then made our way back down the trail, this time the hip was making a lot more noise, probably because of the increased distance, so I had to stop and stretch it a few times, but overall, still a great day with some nice early season wildflowers, animal sightings, and solitude.  

  The 44th anniversary of the Mt St Helens eruption fell on a rainy, windy weekend.  We wanted to get another hike in and possibly view the growing mountain goat herd on the north side.  Unfortunately, state route 504 was severely damaged by a landslide last summer and isn't estimated to reopen until at least 2025.  So for now, if you want to get anywhere near the Johnston Ridge Observatory, you have to hike there.  Starting at the Hummocks Trail, we hiked for half a mile before linking up with the Boundary Trail which weaves through the Toutle River Valley before climbing steadily, contouring the roadway before reaching the first of two viewpoints, Loowit at around mile four, then continuing another 3/4 of a mile to Johnston Ridge Observatory.  With the weather forecast, we were not going expecting views, but we were not expecting conditions to be as harsh as we encountered.  Initially we began our ascent in a drizzle with low-hanging, moody clouds.  Pausing to admire a striking mountain bluebird contrasted against the ever-changing conditions, we eventually continued upward in earnest.  Rain and wind turned to snow and more wind, at periods we couldn't see much of anything, but luckily with fast moving weather, the low visibility didn't persist as we neared the more exposed approach.  From the Loowit viewpoint, we spotted some elk down below in the valley but no signs of goats.  Snowing harder now with trace accumulations trailside, we ascended to Johnston Ridge and took shelter in the alcove of the now-shuttered visitor center.  Donning our heavier puffer jackets, we hung our shells to dry as we ate our snacks.  The viewpoint here was completely socked in, and the heavy snowfall continued.  Our hopes of any clearing and looking for goats now dashed, and the weather turning seemingly colder (in reality is was probably more related to us not moving and sitting on cold concrete), we decided it was time to head back down the trail and to the cold pizza waiting in the cooler.  I threw on some gloves and my slightly less soaked rain shell, and we descended quickly, the frozen fingers finally abating.  We passed a few people on their way up and made the predictable small talk about how lovely the views and weather were and continued making our way down, down, down.  When you're cold, wet, and a little uncomfortable (especially in the knees from the downhill), it seems to take forever to get back to the car, but eventually we did in fact reach the now half full parking lot.  We grabbed a cold beverage from the only open facility there and enjoyed some well earned pizza.  

To celebrate May's last days, I intended to hike to another favorite river in Olympic National Forest.  I got behind the slowest drivers ever going up 101 with no ability to pass due to oncoming traffic, construction, and heavy rain with poor visibility.  It definitely cost me time, and then to top it off, I got behind a gas truck going 10 miles under the speed limit on the rural road before the forest road.  It took way longer to get where I wanted to be, and when I pulled up the roadside trailhead, there was mud everywhere.  This particular trail is generally muddy this time a year, but the parking lot is usually not so.  This was a bad omen, and I could tell my resolve and ability to persist through any type of adversity was low.  I decided to change course and just do a hang and explore day, so the pup and I drove back down the forest road a ways, to a dispersed camping area along the river.  We hopped out and noticed a trail running right behind the site.  We followed it for probably a mile before there was a major washout that we could have probably negotiated, but since I changed my plan from what I had told Shaun in the am, I decided to play it safe.  I did have my rescue locator, but that doesn't mean I want to have an occasion to use it.  The dog and I hung by the river, where I fished multiple fishless runs, though I did spy a good sized spring Chinook that was half dead.  With a long drive home facing us, we headed back on the trail and to the car, driving back toward Oly, stopping at Dosewallips State Park for a sunny picnic, listening to hummingbirds buzz all around us.  

 I'd be lying if I didn't say I was ready for more alpine exploration, but I am proud to have made the best of a shoulder month of May.  The mosquitoes I encountered toward the end of the month reminded me that summer is indeed coming and that soon enough I will be complaining about itchy bug bites, heat domes, and wildfire smoke.  Oh and here's a courtesy goat from clearer, warmer days.