Betty Hiner " 2006 Klutz award................." second runner up.

[Marco]

Hey Betty,
I just ran across an article you authored near 1996 that tugged at my Wyoming heartstrings. Apparently one of FAOL's competitive sites GOTC ran a "contest" to choose the number one fishing related KLUTZ from among it's subscribers. Apparently and sadly you only captured the "runner-up" second place recognition based on a wonderful tale of fly fishing woe. Written as if inspired by John Grisham . Since it covers the Laramie, Centennial and Snowy Range area of Wyoming , where I too roamed and sought my scholorship at UW, it's streams, ponds and glacial lakes whose names you mentioned and caused a tear of fond memory, I immediately consumed and savored EVERY word of it. SO..................I THANK YOU for that.
And now, if you are able, legally etc, share this gem with all of us here at FAOL. I was about to cut and paste and post it here but I noticed it is protected under copyright which precludes that action.
If you could do this, I'm SURE we'd all appreciate one of the BEST adventures ever published herein.

Mark
PS: Also do mention the "speed trap"

[MSD53X]

"PLEASE" Betty, I would like to read this.

[Betty Hiner]

Oh! How funny! I'd not thought of that in years! I'll see what I can do ...

[Betty Hiner]

2006 Klutz of the Year - 2nd Runner-up
Betty Hiner
Incredible trip to Wyoming’s Snowy Range, just in time for the Wyoming Wind Festival! Actually, the Festival runs from January first to December 31st, so you’ll still be in time for it whenever you go. Boy, does that wind blow! Trees in the mountain pass have branches on only one side of their trunk! Centennial is a trip in itself. A town of 100 people; far from the beaten path; four bars, one hotel, one bed and breakfast, and one Church. The hotel‘s idea of air conditioning is to open the windows. With day temps in the 60’s, and nights in the low 40’s, it’s most comfortable.
During the days the town dogs roam about visiting each establishment, and every person is fair game for slobbery kisses, and excessive tail wagging, coupled with a hearty lean against your legs. At night the bugle of elks can be heard off in the distance, and the cry of the coyote right outside the window. Other than that, and the snoring of the guy in the next room, night is quiet.
Throughout the meadows and mountains, streams, ponds and glacial lakes dot the landscape. To reach many of them, even in July, snow banks upwards of 10 feet deep, must be navigated. Brookies, rainbows, cutthroats, and subspecies of cutthroats, populate each water source. The higher you climb, the bigger the fish. Every meadow is carpeted with wild flowers, and it’s hard to place a foot without crunching at least a few flowers. The smell of sage, mint and pine is almost overwhelming in the sunshine, and combined with the views of flowers and water, mountains, trees, and glaciers, it is a real head rush.
Everyone had different ideas of what flies worked. Every pond, stream, and lake had a different fly that was supposed to work. The good old, elk hair caddis, no palmered body hackle, basic tan, extra thorax hackle, worked every place, every time. It was the “fly du jour” every day!
I believe I achieved the new record launching distance for a brookie! Past record was about 17 feet. This little one shot to the next county!!I believe I achieved the new record launching distance for a brookie! Past record was about 17 feet. This little one shot to the next county!! MUST remember to set the hook a bit more gently that what you’d do for a honken’ rainbow! Had to retrieve him, and wash him off, before apologizing, kissing him on the snout, and releasing him. (Nash Fork, just out of Brooklyn Lake, elev.10,526 ft)
The weekend’s weather turned horrid! Cold, wind, rain; just degrees above the point of turning to snow. Then the fog set in up in the mountains, and you couldn’t see your feet it was so thick. Put on every piece of clothing I had, and fished near the source of Libby Creek (elev. 10,750 ft)! Caught one brook trout and decided that was good enough for me.
Still finding bruises from the afternoon I tried to self-destruct...Did you know that prairie grass, on top of uneven terrain, is as slick as hog snot?Still finding bruises from the afternoon I tried to self-destruct. Put on the trusty old waders and felt bottomed boots to work through the swampy snowmelt along side one of our favorite streams (Libby Creek, elev. 8,760 ft)). Did you know that prairie grass, on top of uneven terrain, is as slick as hog snot? With in half a mile of starting, my feet slipped to the downside of a ridge, and I flipped over backwards, executing a not so graceful backwards somersault. Didn’t break anything, so I kept going. A couple hundred yards further, and I stepped in a hole, neatly covered with grass, clear up to my b….umm.…tuckas, slammed my right knee into the dirt, and jammed my left wrist trying to stop the forward motion. At the bottom of the hole was sucking mud that held my foot tight. I lay there for a few minutes, trying to remember if I’d heard a cracking sound, from either leg, arm, or rod. Nope? Extricated myself from there, only to take a few more steps and slip down another hill … forward this time, straight down on my knees again, and left wrist. DONE!!! I’m just way too old to be flopping around on the ground like that! Hiked right on out of there. I think I exerted great restraint by not throwing rod, reel, flies, and boots into the water! Got back to where we’d left the car, only to find another vehicle parked next to us … from the next county over from us in Kansas! I pouted and growled for about an hour, till it started raining, and Cary made his way back to the car. At the same time, the occupant of the truck came back, from the opposite direction, and I hear “Oh, my gawd! I know you!” Turned out to be one of the guys who works in our Kansas City Cabelas store! Miles and miles from nowhere, and we find someone we know!
Hiked in to East Glacier Lake, 10,790 ft, and didn’t ever want to leave. Glaciers come right down to the water. Little bitty trees, full grown, were thick on the hills below us. Rocks and ice above us. Kept thinking, “this is probably as close to heaven as I’ll ever get!” Hiked up past Mirror Lake, up the side of the Medicine Bow Range, past more glaciers and over the terminal moraine, to reach Lookout Lake (beautiful! elev. 10,630). Little wild flowers poked out through the rocks, and covered the meadows to the downward side of the moraine. From there, looking south, you could see for hundreds of miles.
Just west of there was Lake Marie, and while beautiful, what caught our eye was across the highway, Lake Marie Falls, and a little lake that once it flowed a couple hundred yards, went under a terminal moraine. The lake held rainbows, brook trout, and a subspecies of cutthroat (Bonneville Cutthroat). And no one was fishing it!! Lots of hikers, but no fishers of trout! Put a quick end to that! Fun, fun, little lake!
We fished numerous streams and lakes, and hiked many, many trails, and just barely scratched the surface! (102 sub alpine lakes and streams, and 20 major Snowy Range trails.)
Other than my trying to injure myself, the only other casualty of the trip was Cary’s 5’ 2Weight. He used it as a source of defense, against a tree, whose roots tripped him up, then jumped right in his way! Fortunately it was a fairly easy mend, as it broke right under the stripping guide.
We departed Centennial mid morning, sunshine and 63 degrees. By the time we reached Laramie, 20 miles down the mountain, it was up to 90 degrees. I was ready, right then, to turn around and head back up the mountain! I’m not too sure of the Wind Festival combined with the snows that will start in September, and continue through June, as far as staying up there, but I do know that I’ll be ready next July to return for another go at the fish and trails. Wind Festival and all.
After all … Trouts don’t live in ugly places!
| 2007.02.08 |

[Marco]

Thanks Betty. And I told y'all it was a GREAT tale .
Betty did however not mention the "speed trap" so I'll take the liberty.
Coming into Centennial off the Snowy Range ( speeding down the mountain into town with OVERHEATED brakes at 80 mph) there suddenly appears a speed sign with plain BLOCK letters and numerals with "SPEED LIMIT 35". A bit too late to heave the anchor so you coast down to 65 and suddenly about 150 yards ahead, the dreaded BLACK and WHITE parked," obviously" with radar gun pointed directly at your only car on the road. . So NOW you apply foot brake pressure equal to like avoiding a suddenly appearing deer in your lane. Cross your fingers as you whiz by the BLACK and WHITE, a beat up windowless , 4 flat tires ,paint brush and roller painted with two Hills Bros red coffee cans as flashers 59 Ford. Well, needless to say your heartbeat calms back from 800 bpm to more or less normal and pull to the side of the road to take a pic as did I laying on the hood with a raised beer can. Memories are made of this!


Mark

[Betty Hiner]

Hahaha! I was still looking for a picture of the "cruiser" ... but, your description far exceeds the picture! A few years ago, there was a huge stuffed bear attending the radar gun from the drivers seat. Love Centennial! Whata town!

[Marco]

Hey Betty,
"...huge stuffed bear attending.........", now THAT is worthy of a visit this next time (Sept-Oct) that we visit Wyoming . I've been close for the last ten years but stopped at the Little Laramie River where it crosses 130 near the "94" Ranch. I have my favorite hole near there at the "School Section" where the Browns are as if painted by an artist........as we can note, they ARE.
Were you ever in Centennial when there still existed ( pre conflagration- not only that but a fire too) the "Old" Old Corral owned by Pat Self? Those were REAL Cowboy Days ! Pat also owned the fly store in town as well as the West Laramie Fly Store in Laramie.

Mark - reliving memories

[jcampbell]

Nice stories guys. Made me feel like I was there, but glad I was not given the wind. Been to some similar places. Thanks for the memories.

[Betty Hiner]

Marco, was never there while Pat Self was still living. I have met some of his sons, so I can only imagine he was quite the character! There's no fly shop in Centennial now, so we always make a stop at the West Laramie shop on our way through town.
Jim, while I imagine you have been to many grand places, I doubt any of them came anywhere close to Centennial! It's a place far removed from all others.

[jcampbell]

Betty, I'll take your word for it.