Wild West

When I looked out my tent Wednesday morning, the skies were clear and flaming  gorge resevoir was dead calm.   I had spent the night before reading a trout unlimited magizine lucky lisle gave to me.  It had an article in it about a place in Wyoming called little mountain.  It contained a very small stream, about 3 feet wide, which held native cutthroats.  This was a random place for these fish since it was a high desert and water was scarce.  It just so happens that it was on route to my next destination, green river wyoming. 

My first new state on the trip!!  I drove north on rt191 and saw the towering land mass called little mountain. The area was much larger than it's name led on to believe.   I drove down dirt roads and searched for the small stream but all I found was dried up creek beds.  I'm sure some locals knew where to find it and would most likely keep it's location hidden to the grave.  

So on I went. Rt191 climbs up extremely high on a ridge line where you had a 360 degree of everything, or nothing depending on what you were looking for. Seventy miles to route 80, seventy miles of absolutely nothing but rocks and sage brush.   

Since my mission to find the small stream failed I decided to hit the laundry mat.  I had forgotten how exspensive those places were!   Afterwards I met up with my friend Kate who I had met in salt lake but was originally from rock springs wyoming.  Her brother joe now resides in green river and had offered up a roof over my head for the night and to take me fishing on the gorge.  

We left around three and got to a secret spot down a long dirt road he had fished many times before, that produces a plethora of meaty rainbows.  By this time the wyoming winds had really kicked up and we decided fly rods were not going to cut it so we broke out some spinning rods, his secret lures, and headed to the bank.  The shore line was very loose rock and you could tell by the water coloring that it dropped sharply at the bank to a depth of about fifty feet.  Joes instructions were to cast it out far, let it sink for a few seconds then slowly twitch in... I hooked into a beautiful deep purple rainbow on the first cast!!

After that the hits kept coming! 

I think we caught about twenty fish total.  All big healthy rainbows.  Oh and it was a treat to have "real" beer again!  

We left at Sundown to head back to joes where Kate and joes girlfriend Ashley had prepared a wild game feast.  Featuring cuts from joes deer and moose he shot this year.  It was by far the best game meat I have ever tasted.  Accompanied by cauliflower, potatoes, joes secret sauce(he has got a lot of secret things), and finished with an ice cream sandy.  I got to sleep on an air mattress as well!!  Great food and wonderful hospitality, thank you Joe, Ashley, and Kate! 

I left in the AM intent on hitting the north platte river south east of Rawlins wyoming.  I had heard good things about this stretch and fish with in it.  The ride east on rt80 was fast and easy.  I had about a twenty five mile an hour tail wind that resulted in some fantastic MPGs.  But then I turned south and was slammed with wind.   I arrived at a little town on the platte with a familiar name to it. 

They also had a hot spring!!  What are the chances??  In the town I stopped at a local fly shop to see how the river was. It was completely blown out from the past two day thaw.   I was given some recommendations on where to fish/camp and set off south.  

Unfortunately every spot I stopped at was extremely windy and very murky from run off.  Then it started to rain/snow...  I knew my spell of great weather couldn't go on forever!   So I kept trucking south hoping for a break in the weather or Atleast a sheltered place to camp.  No luck.  I ended up only being a few miles from the Colorado border, so I dove in!  

I opted to head east towards Fort Collins in search of less rain and snow.  

It was a bit different scenery.  I was driving through Roosevelt national forest. This sent me over 10,276' Cameron pass then down the mountain on the other side.  

I was following the Poudre river down and stopped multiple times to check out the water and fish situation.  It was quite a few miles before I got below the snow line and I starting searching for a place to camp.  For a state that prides itself on being so liberal and albeit hippy in the eyes of the rest of the country,  it sure has a lot of "No" signs.   Trying to find a primitive camp spot with in this national forest proved to be very difficult.  The scenery made up for my frustration.  Steep canyon walls following a stellar river that reminded me of the Ellis river in New Hampshire where my grandma lived. 

I stopped and talked to a hiker who said there was one camp area open a few miles down the road that was open.  I'm not sure if some one broke the locks or it was actually open but I passed about ten other sites with the gates closed, so I pulled in and set up camp.  After the tent was up I put on waders and hit the river which was right next to my truck.  All this after I tapped into an old friend from back east who I found in a cooler in Wyoming... 

I did not see any fish at all. I walked the river a bit, checking rocks to see what kind of creepy crawlies were lurking, and decided on a dry dropper.  The combo work and I hooked into this furotious little guy. 

I caught a few more little fish then headed back to my camp.  The winds died down, I made food, and relaxed with some blue heavys.