It was years ago, but I remember it well.  It was the end of November and the end of a long day of four-wheeling.  We were finally driving home, down a typical red rock beautiful southern Utah canyon, night had fallen fast and it was dark, the stars and moon were being blocked by low ominous clouds that threatened snow.  It was the kind of darkness that nothing could penetrate, the combined head lights and spotlights that were supposed to have a 4 mile range, only succeeded to light up what seemed like about 10 feet of road.  I fell back from the Jeep in front of me, partly because I was too tired to keep up, and partly not to blind him with the spotlights.  I was tired, and half asleep, as my body was what I call bump drunk, meaning I had been driving off road for hrs and I was just swaying to the bumps, too tired to fight them anymore.  I was thinking about the red canyon walls, arches, pictographs and ancient ruins, that had all been part of this day.  The drone of the Jeep in low gear as I crossed wash after wash, was slowly numbing my mind and body.  As I drove out of a steep wash, my headlights briefly shining futile straight up into the night sky, I rounded the top of the wash and just as my headlights found the road again. I felt the Jeep hesitate and lurch as I hit something, my mind and body instantly awake as I tried to figure out what happened.  I stopped, grabbed a flashlight and got out of the Jeep to look for damage. one of my bumper lights was broken, by, I know not what.  I scanned the area with the flashlight, but could not see anything that would have caused the light to break.  The road behind me was clear.  Not even a sage brush was close enough that I could have hit it.  I jumped as I heard a noise and at edge of the road a shape that I thought was a rock moved.  I slowly cautiously walked up to it.  A injured mountain lion was lying there and staring at me.  I was scared and went to run back to the Jeep when I realized it was too injured to move.  I then stared mesmerized, at the now surreal scene that was before me.   The poor lion, I hit it, I felt sorry for it, sorry that I hit it, sorry that it was hurt, I apologized to it, trying to explain that I didn’t see it. I don't know how long I just stood there and watched it.  After I could tell it was no longer breathing or moving I carefully, moved up closer to it, and reached my foot out to touch its tail.  I almost cried as I realized its life was gone.  I couldn’t leave it lying on the edge of the road, so, I know, I know, I wouldn’t recommend this, but I bent down and carefully picked up the back end and slid it off the road, and into some scrub brush.   I felt bad, I apologized again, before walking sadly away to climb back into the Jeep to resume my drive home.  I was now awake, and looking carefully at the road and watching the brush on the side of the road waiting for something to jump out in front of me.   I was thinking that the drive out was starting to seem like it took a lot longer than the drive in, but I didn’t worry too much about it, as I told myself I was driving a lot slower this time.   As I came up to a fork in the road, I realized that I had been here just a few minutes ago.  I had picked the road on the right, the first time, as it looked to be the most used.  As I turned the Jeep to for the road on the left, a shape out of the edge of my headlights appeared, I didn’t believe it, it was a lion, my heart stopped, my hair stood up, my body erupted in goose bumps, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, cause I could see through it.  Wow I was really more tired than I thought; now I am seeing things.  I then quickly drove down the road on the left.  It wasn’t long before the road didn't seem familiar, it was rockier than I remembered, but seemed to be heading in the right direction, I was in a canyon, and it was going down the canyon, so I figured it would lead out a different way. How could I possibly get lost in a narrow canyon?  After about 30 minutes, I was thinking, this is looking familiar I should hit the paved highway any second now, I drove thru a screen of brush and what! I was back to that same fork in the road. I slammed on my breaks and was dumbstruck with disbelief.  I knew I must have missed something somewhere in the darkness.  I then went back to my first decision, the road most travelled has got to be the right one, when again out of the corner of my eye on my far right, I saw the same ghostly image, only this time it seemed to beckon, like I was supposed to follow it, it turned and started to walk away from me, taking a few steps and looking back at me, then taking a couple more and looking again.  I thought, no way, I am not seeing this!  Quickly I popped the clutch and sprayed sand and gravel behind me as I took off down the road on the right.  I was driving a little frantically now, but slowed down when I missed a turn and took out a sage brush.  I was feeling better as this road was looking more familiar.  I was telling myself that the ghost that I saw was a figment of an over tired imagination, fueled by the fact that I felt bad about hitting the lion.  I was convincing myself that I was on the right road, and just about out to the highway, when again I drove thru a gap in the brush, and slammed on the brakes! NO! This isn’t right! I was back at that same fork in the road!  It doesn’t make sense, I have been down the right side twice, and the left side once.  I was too tired to fight the rocks again down the left side, plus I knew I didn’t drive up the canyon on that road.  I must have missed another fork, somewhere down the right side.   I was in a little bit of a panic mode when that ghostly image again appeared off to the right, right at the edge of my lights.  It didn’t scare me this time, because I was expecting it. I think it would have bothered me more if It hadn't appeared.  I was worried, my gas gauge was getting low, and I now had spent over 2 hrs for a 30 min drive.  I knew I had to make the right choice or, I would be sleeping in the Jeep that night hoping that I could find some help tomorrow.  Again the apparition turned to walk away, looking back over its shoulder at me, seemingly asking me to follow it. This time I turned the Jeep so the headlights were centered on the ghost, and slowly started driving closer, when it disappeared only to reappear at the far edge of my headlights, I went a little closer, and suddenly saw a two track road, I couldn’t see it before.  I thought what the heck, and started driving down it, the ghostly lion appeared trotting down the road in front of me, and then disappeared again.  This road was not familiar, but the canyon I was in, wasn’t that big, the only way it could go was out, so I followed it.  I came to some stair steps in the rocks and sand, I was too tired for this, but the Jeep knew what to do, I put it in low, and let it crawl up the steps.  At the top of the steps was a level clearing with yet another fork in the road. Oh man, just what I need.  I stopped and was trying to figure out which way to go. When I saw the lion again, it was standing in the middle of the road on the right, the road was a faint two track, I thought is this really leading me out? Or just farther in to get me more lost? Maybe it was trying to take revenge on me for hitting it? Did I mention I was tired? My next thought was, oh well, I will follow it again, and when my gas runs out, I will try to sleep till tomorrow.  I wasn’t looking forward to hiking out, but I figured I would worry about that tomorrow.  So I followed, down the two track I went, once again, the ghost started trotting in front of me and disappeared as if he was assured I would follow.  I wasn’t so sure; the road was a rough one, with lots of rocks and sand.  Abruptly the road seemed to end; it was washed out, it ended at a 4 ft steep bank, with another only about 2 ft high a long 20 boulder strewn feet away.  Ya, great, earlier in the day I would have loved this challenge, but not at 2 am, and of course there was the ghost standing on the other side as if trying to say, come on, let's go.  I thought well this is it, now we get stuck but at least then I will convince myself to try and get some sleep, so with a very subdued yee ha, I again, put the Jeep in its lowest gear, and crawled, no, more like, dropped off the edge, as soon as I felt the front tires hit the bottom, I hit the gas, and dragged the back end down, scrapping all the way, the boulders proved to be no challenge as they just rocked me and the Jeep frantically from side to side, then I hit the far ledge, It was the only thing I could see clearly, it seemed to loom ominously as I got closer,  I thought no way to finesse this, so when I felt the Jeep hesistant as the front tires hit the ledge, I floored it, all four tires spun as the engine roared, the Jeep practically jumped up and over the ledge.  I had to slam on the brakes as soon as I was over and realized I was now on a well worn road.  I looked around and there was the ghost lion, just to my left, looking at me expectantly as it started to trot off down the road, looking back over its shoulder at me yet again.  I turned the Jeep and yup, again, it disappeared as soon as I was going the right direction.  Almost immediately I recognized this road, I must have missed it clear at the beginning of the drive out, and in about 10 minutes I was out of the canyon with the paved highway in front of me.  I stopped the Jeep , climbed out and turned around, and there it was, I was all goose bumps and tingly but right in front of me was the lion, so I thanked it, and thanked the spirits of the canyon, and thanked God, and every other thing I could think of.  I then wearily, but happily, knowing now I was heading home, climbed back in the Jeep.  I found myself thinking that was kinda freaky, did that really happen? Or was I just lucky and found my way out on my own?  Deciding that it all seemed very real, but who would believe me?  Did I believe me? By this time I was completely exhausted, and was unable to debate the questions, deciding to leave it for another day, and with headlights reflecting off the slow soft fall of snow.  I turned on the wipers opened a fresh Pepsi and drove off in the direction of the nearest town.

Oct 12 2012, Fish Story

Recently I talked to a friend who related to me many instances of successful fishing. Thinking about this I experienced a pang of jealousy, so far this summer and fall my fishing has not been met with much success. I have even fished some of the same water as my friend, but I have nothing to show for it.  This has caused some reflection on my part, I have been fishing for some 20 yrs longer than him, so why havn’t I caught anything?  In a short time my friend has demonstrated a natural talent for Flyfishing, this has been his first real summer trying the sport, but yet he has spent hrs watching videos and podcasts downloaded to his phone and computer, as well as getting out on the water, for a average of once a week for the past few months.  Me? Well I have relied upon experience and articles read, & videos watched over the last 20 yrs, with the last 15 mainly Flyfishing.   But I noticed something, a difference in the approach.  

While contemplating on this difference I decided to go back to the beginning, back to the start, back to the very stream where I caught my first fish all on my own.  It has changed in the almost 40 yrs since, but it also hasn’t, physically it has been altered, it has suffered, floods, fires, some good management and some very bad management.  After one flood, in the name of flood protection, a tractor was actually driven up the stream and removed any obstacles that blocked the water, and straightened its path.  It seems like it is still recovering from that experience from almost 30yrs ago, but my memories of my favorite small stream, and the first fish I caught from it, may have added a distorted image to my perspective.  But at the same time, it hasn’t changed, it is still there, still flowing down the narrow canyon carving out its bed, like it has for millennia, undaunted by the new impoundments, culverts roads, etc which has tried to block its path.  

It is not a big river, and most people are unimpressed by it. In fact for most of its length it is barely 10 ft wide.  But it is still there still flowing, ever flowing.  I too have changed much since that summer when I was 8, I no longer tuck a bag full of Velveeta cheese in my pocket, and run off to try my luck.  I have also had my ups and downs, like school, job changes, moves, adding a family, a few distractions along the way. Some of which helped and some of which hindered, just like this small stream.  The actual pool, that I caught my first fish in, is long gone, a victim of flood and tractor, but there are a few others I know of that have since developed. While I was preparing to fish, I was thinking about the river changes and about the differences of fishing the river as an 8 yr old, compared to now.  I no longer run excitedly from one hole to the next, and instead of walking up or down the river for hours, and what seemed like miles.  I drive, basically from one known hole to another.  As I was reflecting on this, and walking the 15-20 feet from the car to the hole I was going to fish.... The difference finally struck me, the difference between my friend and his success compared to mine as of late.  He is excited, just like when I was 8, full of enthusiasm and new found achievement.  He is trying to do everything just exactly right, he crouches low, sneaks up on likely spots, careful not to have his shadow cross the water, tries to put his fly in the perfect spot, and have it drift, ever so lightly, without drag, as natural as can be thru the run.  He concentrates, all his attention is on that fly, as he tries to get the presentation perfect.  It suddenly dawned on me, I am in total conflict to this strategy, I lazily saunter up to the stream, poke my head, then my body out over the stream as I look for fish and decide which fly to tie on.  I then try for a good cast, and a good drift, I manage this, once maybe twice thru the run.  But then, my mind drifts, I look at the scenery, and enjoy just being by the stream, and away from the hectic city.  So if I do get a bite, if I haven’t scared everything off by now, I am slow to react, and miss it.   

Now don’t get me wrong, most of the reason, I love fishing, is the scenery, the music of the water, and the soothing action, it seems to impart me with.  But I wonder, has this same lack of concentration, lack of dedication to the task? Has this affected other parts of my life as well?  Has it affected my job? My relationship to my wife? Or to my Children? Friends? Etc?  I always use fishing and fishing trips as a way to recharge the internal battery, to reflect and to shrug off the stresses at the time, to, as it was suggested to me once, to leave all the stresses with the car, and hope that by the time you get back to the car, some of them have disappeared.  For the rest of the trip, I resolved to go back to the basics, go back to dedicating myself to do it the right way, and to do it whole heartedly, not lackadaisical.

Did I catch a fish?  Hmmm we shall see….. to be continued…..

Fall colors on the upper pond

Oops wrong place for that fly

Beutiful Brown Trout, ya its blurry, still had to include it.

The stream, its small I know

As I was pondering all of this, while making my way down to the river, I discovered one of those changes I was talking about. Now for the first time ever, there was a sign right by the path, this section of the river is now posted private property! Access by permission only!  It gave a website to visit, but for now, I will have to just come back another day.  After a few minutes, I got back in the car and drove up the canyon thinking about what spot I would try next.  I was suddenly amazed by all the campers, every pull out had a trailer or motor home and usually both.  Then it struck, me.. oh ya..opening weekend of the deer hunt!

After driving up and then back down the canyon, I pulled off at a place we call the upper pond.  It is a small impoundment, that was added for flood control, during the summer it is heavily stocked with rainbows, but on the backside where the river used to go, you can usually catch a wild Brown or two.  As I parked and climbed out of the car, I noticed in front of me, what appeared to be, and later was confirmed as I overheard their conversation, a small boy, his dad, and granddad were fishing together.  I then looked past them towards the place where I wanted to fish.  And saw a family there gathered together in front of a photographer, but they were blocking the area I wanted to fish!  This is not a big pond! I climbed back in the car, and drove up and down the canyon again, but really this was my only option, as I pulled back in the parking lot I noticed that the family and photographer were gone, YEA!

I pulled into a parking stall and started putting my pole together, an 8 ft 4 wt rod, perfect for small water, as it makes small fish feel big.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the movement of the grandfather making his way towards the back of the pond, luckily he stopped short, but it caused me to panic, just a little, so I grabbed my vest and hurried over to the back side.  I no sooner stepped off the parking lot, when I heard the voice of the photographer, guiding another family back to her spot, blocking my area!  I walked quickly back to the sandy point I wanted to fish and staked my claim.  I immediately noticed how low, and still the water was, even though I was only steps away from the exit spillway, there was almost no flow to the water.  I tied on a small renegade pattern, no reason, except that it has worked here before.  As soon as that I was done, I looked out to aim my cast, when not more that 4 ft in front of me, was a fish.  Looked like maybe a brookie, obviously it could see me, but of course I cast right out in front of it anyway, I think it looked at me in disgust, like what are you thinking? Turned and swam away.  I fished from that spot for awhile, but no bites, and nothing rising to the surface.  I did notice that same fish swim by a couple of times, but each time he just disappeared again. 

As I was fishing I heard the dad across the pond, praising and helping his son as he reeled in a fish, calling the granddad over he had his son hold up the fish and pose for a picture.  Made for a nice moment and I thought about the first fish I caught in that canyon, and some of the more memorable fish since.  This suddenly made me feel kind of frustrated, I was trying to use the trip to rededicate myself, to doing things the right way, to go back to the fundamentals and put forth a good effort to fishing, and so far, my first spot, and many others were blocked and I wasn’t having any luck!... ok ok, a little over reaction but it’s what I felt. 

I decided to work my way down stream, I hadn’t fished that part of the stream in a long time.  I walked down the hill to the bottom of the spill way, and before I was even 10 ft away, I saw the flash of movement, and fish zooming very quickly for cover.  Dang I blew it, I then proceeded to move a little farther down, and again 20 ft away, I saw 3 or 4, zigzag crazily trying to find cover.

The water was very clear and very low, in some places I could see fins sticking out of the water, as they darted for cover.  This was going to take my best, ninja type skills to catch one of these, they were scared of everything! I circled my way down stream, to try and sneak up on the next spot.  My thoughts drifted off, to a spring trip, a dozen years ago, it was just a little farther downstream, there used to be a wide lazy curve with a cut bank, my brother, walked out on a log to try and drift his worm right under that bank, when splash! He slipped fell off the log and completely went under! I wouldn’t have believed there was that much water there! I was standing there kind of shocked! When first one hand came up with hat in hand, then the other with the fishing pole, and then his head poked out of the water.  I saw he was ok, and I about died from laughing, only he would be able to go completely under and not lose his hat or his fishing pole.   

Now back to this trip, alongside the river is a high gravel bank, I carefully put a tree between me and the river, and started slowly down this bank to the river,  suddenly the gravel gave way and I slid and fell on my elbow, I wasn’t going to put my hand down and risk my 200 dollar pole! Ok, maybe only 100, but still.  So once again, I blew that approach, but I did better on the next spot, carefully tiptoed up to the water and, yup first cast, snagged a tree and broke off my fly!  I was having fun, watching the fish and trying to sneak up on them, but still I wanted to catch one. So I tied on another fly, a Griffith’s gnat this time, it is one of the smallest I had, seemed appropriate since this water was not even 8ft wide at this point. It was starting to get dark by this time, so I slowly started working my way back up the river, casting here and there, snagging a bush here and one there. 

As I approached the bottom of the spillway,  I carefully walked up to the little stream, and saw a fish dart, making a note that it went down stream.  Just upstream was a very small pool that looked promising, so concentrating, I made a few cast’s, managing to land my fly there more times than not.  About the 4^th cast, a flash of gold and YEA!!! Success!! A 12 inch brown, huge for this water, took my fly and tried to make a run downstream.  I quickly played it in took a picture, and let it go. The picture turned out blurry of course, it wouldn’t stay still, and I was trying hard not to drop my phone in the river. A wild brown, I think is one of the prettiest fish you can catch, at least until the next cutthroat, I catch. Oh well another time and I will get a better picture. I tried a few more times, had one more bite, but it was getting dark, and I had no clue where my fly was. It was time to go back to my car. I climbed up the bank and out of the river. 

While I was walking back past the pond, I was watching two men fish the pond, and noticed a few fish jumping, and couldn’t resist a cast or two.  I walked over to the far side where the inlet was.   I pulled some line out and made a cast, remember this is a fly rod, and cast it about 10 ft.  Note someday, I should sign up for some lessons.  I pulled in my line, and tried a few more times, managing to cast it a little over 20 ft, which is good for this pond, since that’s about halfway out.  It was way too dark I couldn’t see my fly, but I could still see the fly line, and I knew the fly was a few feet beyond that.   While admiring the sunset, a splash and a miss!  I cast again to about the same spot, stared at my line and the water, and YEA!! Another bite!! Not sure I think this one might have been a rainbow, and a fat little one.  I played it in, and just as I made a final reach for it, it broke my line, and was gone!   Oh well, I was happy, I caught two fish, ya I know, not supposed to count that second one. Too bad, I will anyway.   It ended up a really great trip! The time down by the river, watching the fish, and trying to sneak up on them was great! A beautiful challenge just what I needed.

And it was the return to the foundation, trying hard to do what you’re supposed to do, in this case sneak up on the fish, and place my fly in just the right spot, is what made the trip payoff!  Trips like this are great! … already planning the next one, shhh don’t tell my wife. As to the rest, well that will remain for another day.. to be continued..

The home of the trout

End of the day