Pulling my truck into the small gravel parking lot near the national park trail-head sign, I stepped out into a cool but sticky summer morning. Across the road the small fog bank settled in over where I knew the stream to be, and everything not covered by a canopy of trees appeared saturated with dew. I pulled on some lightweight hip-boots, rigged my rod and tied on a #16 tan caddis pattern which is always a starting fly for me on this particular water.