Next Morning............

During the early morning hours we were awakened to the sound of thunder echoing down the valley like a series of fireworks set off.  Lightening lit up the cabin like daytime and the rain on the roof lulled us back to sleep until 6 a.m.  Our bunks were so comfy it was hard to see who was going to get up first to stoke up the Englander.  After a half hour or so awake, DH gave in and added kindling to the embers which took off in a flurry of sparks and before long it was warm and I had no trouble coming to life.

The trek to the little house on the hill was invigorating with rain dripping off the pine branches.  The air was so fresh, I couldn't help taking deep breathes in an effort to saver every ounce  wishing it would last the whole week ahead.  The birds were waiting to be fed and the tiny chipmunks were fluttering around from under the rocks beside the deck.  It was so good to be alive, there's no place like home.

DH already had the fire started in the cook stove and was waiting patiently for me to start breakfast.  The 12" iron skillet was just the right size for the Brookies caught the evening before.  After breakfast we decided to take a ride on the ATV to Secret Creek, our name for a small stream that couldn't be seen from any road or trail.  It was overgrown with tall six foot bushes but had many small pools where Brookies as big as 8" lurked.  It wasn't long before DH hooked a couple nice fish.  I 'walked' ahead, alert to the  possibility of any Moose that might be lurking in the area.  Lady luck must have been elsewhere this trip as no more fish were taken.  As we returned to the ATV our steps where ever so careful as Beaver runs were everywhere and we encountered a bog and had to back-track several times before reaching our destination. 

We must have ridden 40 miles just taking in the fresh air while wondering on logging roads and trails too narrow for anything but an ATV.  Often surprising Deer quietly grazing in little meadows, not the least frightened by our intruding.  It was nearing noon. We stopped in a clearing, found a fallen Aspen where we sat and had our lunch which we always took along when we went for our spontaneous rides.  The warm sun warmed our bodies and hearts in this quiet place where we often never spoke a word, just listened to the silence. 

A Camp Robber (Steller's Jay) came within a few feet of where we were sitting.  We tossed it an apple core which it quickly pecked away on until another spooked it off and before we knew it, we were surrounded by Jays.  They mysteriously found us and made no sound when they flew in.  We allowed our puppy to stretch her legs after riding for hours in my backpack.  As we were ready to leave she spotted  something nearby and proceeded to check it out.  It was a mole that was burrowing up through the earth pushing dirt up in a pile.  It peered at us for a few moments and just as quickly proceeded to fill the hole with dirt and disappear.  Such is the nature of the mountains.

In our meadow my cares flutter away like a butterfly , like Autumn leaves falling softly on the soft green grass.  The sound of the Nuthatches, the Finches, the Chipmunks and a lone Woodpecker tapping away at a hollow tree in time to my heartbeat.   The waining sun still lingers on a spot in the meadow.  There is a sweet smell from the warm earth that lingers across my face.  I marvel at God's creations.

A deer munches the soft green grass unaware of my presence until a chipmunk's chatter signals there is someone nearby.  She glances up at me as I sit silently on the porch.  She lowers her head and savers a few more bites, then gently walks away up into the forest.

We have unloaded the Bronco, started a fire in the Englander .  We look at each other with that anticipation we know so well.  DH picks up his fly rod, creel and a box of flies and we walk down the trail to the creek.  As we mosey along in the sweet evening air, we remark that this has to be Heaven, if it isn't, we're not going.  As we arrive to a likely spot, awe see a ripple  on the Beaver Pond that gives the appearance of little fireworks as the setting sun glimmers across the droplets.

DH is waving his fly rod with the rhythm of an orchestra leader,  while rings spread into waves across the pond.  Suddenly there is a loud splash and DH has hooked "Walter" as he called him.  He has hooked Walter on a couple previous occasions and this time  he wanted no part of that hook.  The fly rod bent almost in half as he struggled to set himself free.  Suddenly is was if Walter was gone but just as quickly he gave one last dive into the air throwing water as high as 5 feet in the air.  He seemed to say, I give up and swam calmly to shore.  DH reached down, wet his hands and gently removed the hook, and held the huge Trout in place until he scurried off to be free once again.

Our little puppy is patiently sitting by my side as we wait for my Love's next move.   He decides to try another small pond and catches 4 little Brookies which will be our breakfast in the morning along with fresh fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and coffee brewed in the pioneer coffee maker,  On the way back yours truly steps in a hidden Beaver run and almost drop our puppy who is sitting comfortably in my back pack.  No injuries except to my pride.

Walking slowly back to the cabin, we can hear the breeze whispering through the pines and we can smell the pine and the Autumn leaves as they crunch under our boots.  A weekend is such a short time to live on this beautiful mountain with my sweetheart who loves this place so very much.  A place he dreamed of from the time he was 10 years old.  He grew up in the mountains of Utah and could never adjust completely to the rigors of city life as we know it.  We notice some billowy white clouds forming to the South and some are turning dark grey.  I expect we could get a rain shower by morning.  When we're in this valley it's hard to tell if a storm is coming until it's on top of us and we know enough to be prepared.  We scurry back to the cabin, pour a glass of wine and settle in after stoking up the fire.  It's been a long drive, an hour or two fishing and we're almost ready to turn in.  Tomorrow is another day.

From: EMTY
Date: Aug 21 2009
The morning was fresh and there was the call of the wild.


The stream slithered through the meadow without a sound. Suddenly a ring appeared on a tranquil pond and as if by magic a rainbow flipped out spreading tiny clear droplets that sparkled in the morning sun.


I tried to tie on a #18 caddis, but opted for a #14. Double vision told me at least I had something tangible in my hand. All the while rainbows were dancing everywhere like kids on a trampoline.


My first cast was surprisingly perfect with no bushes or overhangs to thwart my efforts. I could see the water dimpling under the fly as it floated toward the spillway, but no offerings after the disturbances, so I wondered upstream. With the best of my ability I finally cast above a fair sized waterfall on a beaver dam. The fly tumbled down and settled in a whirlpool at the base of the fall and disappeared. My line grew tight and I knew I had something on the other end. I lifted the rod and the surge of weight  that told me it wasn't just a snag.


My morning was fulfilled, my heart pounding as I gently released the precious creature to live on and touch the heart of another soul, such as mine.


Till next time Via Con Dias