Snowy Range
6 July - 14 July 2006
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!! 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. 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!
Trouts don't live in ugly places.
A friend is not who knows you the longest, but the one who came and never left your side.
Don't look back, we ain't goin' that way.
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