Back on the trout-law trail

Another school year in the books for this ol' teacher, more specifically my last year as a teacher. It's time to put the lesson plans and pencils in the trash, and replace them with a fly rod--FOR EVER! After a lifetime in school, as either a student, or a teacher it's time to rock some Alice Cooper, crank up the volume to "School's out forever," and explore my next "Trout-law" adventure. Thank You Jeff Erikson 

With the same vato loco brother James Tobler at my side, we hit the Wyoming trail in search of a few more remote towns made famous by old west out laws, and rivers within their proximity. On the northeastern edge of Wyoming, just miles from Spearfish S.D Harry Longbough did a few years in the state penitentiary for stealing a few horses. He spent a few years in prison, but he ended up with a great nickname—“The Sundance Kid” A small spring fed river slowly meanders through the town of Beulah not more than a 30 minute drive from Sundance.

We decide to take the route through Lander, a cute little town with an awesome little bar—the Lander bar, and amazing rivers, one of my favorites the Little Po. From there up the 20 to Thermopolis then to Worland. At the gateway to the lower section of the Big Horn mountain range is Ten Sleep.

I haven’t heard of any famous outlaw activity going on in Ten Sleep, so I can't actually count it as a “Trout-law” river, but all the info I could gather about it, qualifies it as a true beauty. It did not disappoint—what a stunning Wyoming gem. Late June and the river was still flowing high, but come September it would not disappoint.

We fished the West Fork and I fell in love. The water ran clear, with a large rock bottom, surrounded by pines. I cant get back to the Big Horn range soon enough.

So many rivers in the area we just sampled, some we just got a look at. With any luck it won’t be long until I get back to this part of the country. The town of Ten Sleep is surrounded by rolling green hills and wrapped in red cliff bluffs. 

Tobler always plays the part of the navigator, because driving is more suited for me, and he’s kind of a shitty driver. He found a dirt road that led to Canyon Creek—I lost a couple really nice fish.

Sundance WY is every bit as cute as Ten Sleep, but outlaws wouldn’t really call a town cute, now would they? But non-the less, it’s cute.  Sand Creek was just packed with fish, even a few large sicker fish, some in the water and some who pulled into camp after we did. As I approached the camp after fishing up river it looked like a few pretty, young, girls blowing up little rafts. As I approached I realized they weren’t very young, and they weren’t very pretty, but they were blowing up rafts.  Let's just say they looked like they lived hard and fast. Not 10 minutes later a good ol’ boy showed up just in time to hit on them, followed by a couple more jackasses to rock their speaker and float the river as well.

It was time to retreat from Harry Longbough’s fabled namesake and head for his out-law cave—between the area he was imprisoned and the canyon he hid his rustled cattle with Butch and the gang, I choose Middle Powder hands down. We booked it through an amazing rainfall in our iron house to steal a few precious hours on one of the Cowboy states best rivers.

Desert Nirvana finds new life

I am obviously either not fishing, or not blogging. Answer: not blogging--perhaps the passion is a little out of kilter. Many friends have been helping to bring Desert Nirvana to life, and celebrate the good life--maybe that will get the writer/photographer/blogger back in shape.Thanks Diamond James Tobler, Big Bull Colby Wilson, Roger Haglund "Dad," "Big Daddy" Tom Szalay, David "Davidacus" Skelton, Eric Hammer, "Hammie" and Paul "Sammy" Judd. With you "good times creates wind chimes"

Dubois Wy

Yo Blog followers, (Roger & Colby) I know its been a while. First off, I didn't really fish much this summer; and secondly the rivers that I did fish were old favs--not worth talking about or looking at again. This summer's adventure is really the first one worth talking about.

Let me start with the statement, "Its never about the fish, its about the adventure." I can't say that enough. Hell yes catching a lot of fish is great, and big fish are even better. But driving through the west in search of new water, I could do it eternal.

But not everyone feels the same way I do about the Cowboy state. Some, in fact view the entire state as a desert wasteland. I say let the world hate Wyoming, all the better for me. All you assholes who are afraid of open desert, go back and sit on your couch. If you are too big of a candy ass to gas up, and grab a burger in one of the Cowboy's shitty lil towns, then go back to Aspen, Park City, or Sun Valley. Stay in Jackson and slug down pints of Amber Ale at one of the cute bars, or the Silver Dollar. I prefer you stay the hell out of the rest of the state--leaves more room for me. I officially declare I am not just a Utard, but a Wyomer as well. State lines do not confine me--I am free to roam beyond the 100th meridian.

The worst think a person could do is dig in a little and find that Wyoming is more than meets the eye.

 

 

 



Baby Bear Ties The Knot

“Now I see why you guys call him Baby Bear,” comments my wife after Bo and Louise’s wedding in spectacular, autumn leaves covered Victor Idaho. We are driving over the Tetons back to our room in Jackson. “Why do you say that?” I ask. “Because he is like a baby bear, gentle and kind, I don’t really know him, but he seems like he will be a great husband,” she comments. I can say the same for his new bride, Louise, I don’t really know her, but she seems like she will make an awesome wife.  I can see she really loves him.

Bo & Louise picked a brilliant venue, and the best time of the year to have an outdoor wedding. The fall leaves in the Jackson/Victor area is out of control pretty. I have more or less taken Jackson off my list of areas to fish because of the crowds. There’s a reason so many people flock to those areas—its stuffed to the brim with lovin. But I’m not interested in mountain crowds. However, seeing the Teton’s again knocked my right off my feet—I don’t know if I’ve seen prettier. The Saw Tooth Range in Stanley is a contender, Utah’s Timpanogus is nothing to scoff at, The Sierra Nevada’s will rock your world; I could list a dozen more, but come on, the Grand Teton’s are just perfect.

Before the wedding, we drove into the Elk Refuge, and I got to steal a few hours on the Gros Venture River. Honest to God, I would make a cast, then stop and take another look around. I was lucky enough to hook into some Fine Spotted Snake River Cuts, but truly I could care less if I caught a fish or not.

Eight years ago, Bo instantly became a beloved member of the West High faculty--even before he was officially part of the staff--as a student teacher for Marcie Thompson. He became a true brotha though on his first fishing trip, a member of the Magnificent 7. In the early days of some of us guys at West High went fishing together. We had a total of 7 guys on a trip, and it just seemed natural to call ourselves Magnificent.

Within less than 5 minutes of driving I heard the soft hum coming from someone snoring. “Who in the hell could already be asleep?” I asked. “Oh my God, Bo is sleeping,” laughed Tom. His hat was pulled down over his face, snuggled up and tucked in tightly between two grown men, Bo rested gently and our “Baby Bear” was born. A nick name has to fit, you can’t give one to yourself, and as time goes and you’re lucky, it feels right.

Being named baby bear goes deeper that just taking a nap, it’s an attitude, a style, a certain swagger that embossed him with the nick name “Baby Bear.” From all of the Magnificent, we’d like to give Baby Bear & Louise all our love and blessings. Hopefully his rocks have dropped and he’ll sire a cub of his own before too long—a baby baby bear.

Magnificent 7+1

The Magnificent +1 ride to the Cowboy State on a quest to do a little fishing, take in a little of the splendor of the Wyoming, and Wind River Mountain
Range, and to see who selected the best whiskey. Each bandit was instructed to bring a bottle from his state of choice, to see how it held up in the taste test with whiskeys distilled in other states. Here's a run down of the cowboys, and their state poison of choice:

Yul Brynner as Chris Adams,                  Dutch John Engel                                    Idaho

Steve McQueen as Vin Tanner,               Diamond James Tobler                           Ireland

Charles Bronson as Bernardo O'Reilly,   Bull Wilson                                             Utah

Robert Vaughn as Lee,                            Big Daddy Tom Szalay                           Calif

Brad Dexter as Harry Luck,                     Bone Dry Garth McFarland                    Dry

James Coburn   as Britt                            Spade (formerly The Oracle) Matheson Wy

Horst Buchholz as Chico,                        Baby Bear Bo Maciejko                          Colo

Eli Wallach as Calvera,                           Jake (no-nick name) Taber                      Dry

The winning states from top to bottom:

1. Idaho
2. Utah
3. Colo
4. Ireland
5. Calif
6. Dry
7. Dry
8. Wyoming

You might ask yourself, "How could the two dry non drinkers choice of beverage beat Wyoming?" The answer is easy, take a second look at which cowboy selected a spirit from Wyoming...? The Spade. You don't go from having a nick-name like The Oracle to The Spade by accident. But let's not be too rough on this cow-poke, when it comes to pickin' a destination The Spade never digs a grave. He may not know how to pick whiskey, but he's always welcome at the campfire.


Big shout out to all you boys for making this trip extra special. Jake--I hope you join in next time, you may even get a nick name. Baby Bear just watch Bull Wilson cast, its a work of art. Colorado whiskey is awesome, but it can't hold a candle to you Gents. Diamond--you manage to sparkle even while you hurl, fart and belch. Garth, straight as an arrow, grumpier than must grumpy old men, but a true blue stallion. Thanks Big Daddy for keeping the whole group together, and capturing it all.

Ferron Creek

Long lost fishing bro Colby (Bull) Wilson was back in the saddle again to wet a line and visit a river we have both had in our scope for a long time now--over a year. And since its the summer of Diamond James, he was the third musketeer--but by no means the third wheel. Ferron is not one of those rivers most people know about, and its a good hour past Price, so not a lot of fishermen from the area are going to make a trip just to fish it. Colby and I have been talking about it, and we keep trying to fish it, but things get in the way.

I know I still have a lot of work to do, to fish all the rivers/streams in the state, but in terms of the major rivers, I am running out of waters to fish--for the first time that is. Ferron was awesome, beautiful to look at and not too many people. In terms of fish, the lower section we hit in the morning had something clearly wrong with it, because we simply did not see more than 5 fish in the whole river. In fact we would get to great holes, and stomp through them, just to see if any fish would dart out--nothing. It was a crying shame, because it was the perfect size and the holes were fantastic. We could not figure out.

We headed to the upper section by Ferron and Duck Reservoir, and worked the river below the damn. Beautiful little cuts, hungry and ready to eat dries like hoppers and stimmies. The brush and dead fall was so think that I just cant imagine too many fishermen wanting to fish this section too hard. By the time we got back to the truck, we were all beat to hell--well at least I was.

As any of my readers know, (Roger and Math) I do the cooking, Dutch or cast iron. Its a favorite to do Brats with white onion, and a Jalapeño in a nut brown beer, then let it soak in the flavor, the brown to perfection. One little problem, I forgot the cast iron. I brought the stove and propane tank, but forgot the skillet. I was pretty pissed at myself.

Thank God for Bull Wilson and Diamond James, between the two of them, they came up with "Brat in a Beer Can" idea. We cut to top off a beer can, put the brat in with kraut, pepper and onion, then fill with brown beer. It was genius and delicious (see pic)

On the drive home, someone had the idea of taking the "Great Western Trail," which pretty much puts you in Salina--dirt road. I have no idea who the hell to blame for this. Thank God for a really interesting land mark, named Mary's Nipple. Of course we were wondering who Mary is?  How old is she today? Is she still alive? And most of all, is the mountain peak anything close to her actual nipples? The conversation lasted even longer than you can imagine. Odds are every single truck filled with males that drives past it plays out exactly the same fashion. Thank God we didn't have the Oracle with us, the conversation would have lasted the whole way home! It was quite the adventure. I got home ready to drop but happy. I think at this point I need to take a break from my mad adventures and lick my wounds for a spell...