I've cut and paste this out of Jake's Monster Muley's post. These are Jake's words exactly:
"If ya don't do it this year, you'll be one year older when ya do."-Warren Miller
That's kinda been my mantra the past few years. I've wanted to do the Wind Rivers and chase elusive golden trout for years. I wasn't about to be one year older and still dreaming. This was the year. This would be a departure from our usual Uinta pack trips. A different state, a mountain range I've never laid eyes on, and a species of trout that remained unchecked on my list. Remaining constant was my dad, my 6 year old son after his successful debut last year and my horses. My brother, Doug, came along this year too after a long haitus from the backcountry. 3:30 am alarm, an hour later and we're on the road. A trailor tire blow out, a less than scenic tour of Rock Springs, sausage McMuffins, a new tire, inevitable Wyoming roadwork delay, miles of rolling sage. . .then this. Our first good view of the Wind Rivers!
It was still a good amount of distance and time before rolling into the trailhead. I got the horses ready, Dad and Doug packed the panniers and Dalton and Cinder explored the area. Within 20 minutes we're heading down the trail.
While not a hard hike, the miles staked up. By about 5pm, after 8 trail miles and another mile of bushwacking, we found a suitable place to call home for the next four days. That's camp there at the foot of a 500 ft. granite wall.
Once the area was clear of all potential bad guys and after every grizzly in the territory had been shot, we were good to relax and enjoy a fine fajita dinner.
While we saw no real sign of bears, we still took the precaution to hang our food. Here's the view from our kitchen window:
After a good night's rest and a filling breakfast, we were off. Prospectors of sorts. In search of GOLD! Riches never come easy, another couple miles and more climbing put us close.
Withing a dozen casts or so, BAM! Fish on . . .fight it . . .bring it in easy. . .is it?. . .is it?. . .Yes! I struck gold! The first of many Golden Trout.
Son + Spinner = Golden. All his own!
Dad too! Check out this old male, the fish that is.
The color on that brute was something else, unbelievably beautiful fish.
Took a break from the fishing for a bit and hiked to the top of the entire continent, LITERALLY! Standing on top of the continental divide. Pacific to his left, Atlantic to his right.
The view from up there was nothing short of amazing.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, standing atop His creations, God's perspectives, or at least our feeble understanding of it, becomes a whole lot clearer. Gratitude seems to always fill my thoughts. . .life, health, family, freedoms and the opportunity to experience it all!
As you'd expect, a 6 year old's attention span for fishing isn't that long. So what's a boy to do? Eat easy-cheese from the can, climb boulders, throw sticks to the dog and build huts! We made it a point to make sure we didn't cram fishing down his throat. The last thing I wanted was for him to think fishing is a boring thing where you have to sit and watch dad for hours on end. Races back to camp, gorilla warfare, stick gun battles, and watching clouds with grandpa, were among a few of many extracurricular activities. He truly had a great time.
Blueberry pancakes, bacon, and fried potatoes fueled our next day's hike to this scenic lake.
Cookie cutter high country brookies, but WOW was the bite on! That kid pulled in probably a solid 30 fish from that lake and with every fish he wanted to know "is it a keeper?!"
I left the crew and scrambled up solo up a couple hundred feet of rubble to a breathtaking view of the drainage below and barren alpine tundra above.
We wanted to take a peek at one more lake in the vicinity before we left. Required about a mile hike and a treacherous river crossing.
Once there, it became immediately apparent that this lake was teaming with fish. With crystal clear water, good sized trout could easily be seen cruising the shallows. We couldn't get rigged up fast enough. We watched many more than we caught. They weren't in the mood for anything. But the few we caught were a fine reward. Obviously planted at one time, I'm guessing many, many years ago, this lake harbored entirely wild rainbows. Very rare, from my experience with high and deep backcountry lakes.
It was close to dinner time and time to head back, one last picture before descending to camp.
Yep, them's T-bones from our own home grown beef. Fine eating for our final dinner.
Up early, pulled camp, and ready for the hike out. Our first little drizzle of the whole trip. Nothing threatening, actually felt pretty good to cool it down for what would be a pretty good ascent right off the bat.
Small breather at the top and keep on going. Still some pretty good patches of snow up there for August.
Just about there. Last river crossing.
Usually reaching the trail head comes with a happy sigh of relief, this time we were welcomed back with a flat tire on the truck. No problem, get the pump. Oh, forgot the pump, no problem, change to the spare. What! Forgot the jack! Man, was I unprepared. That won't happen again. Thanks to dad's mountain mechanic skills, he found a perfect elliptical shaped rock that when crammed against the frame and backed onto, the front ended lifted up enough to get the spare on. Just added to the adventure. 20 minutes and we were on our way.
As we headed out through the wide open Wyoming prairie, with the Winds in the rear-view, we reflected on memories created that will last our lifetimes. We vowed we'd visit this special place again. A truly epic adventure it was.
VIDEO: And here's the biggest one of the trip, you know how all big fish stories end up . . .
