STREAMSIDE TROUT

Streamside Trout

Orange flesh inside matches the outside belly.
Red dots, blue halos, mottled olive, worm-like skin,
disappear in folded foil turned gold by fire.
Sounds of sizzling and splattering,
singe the evening silence.
Like a wildflower blooming in spring,
the folds of tin are opened.
Aromas of wood smoke and fish
rise toward the tops of pines,
faint ghosts caught in the breeze.
Poached opal eyes stare
while dinner is served.

I penned the above poem when I was thinking back on a few streamside meals I have had over the years. I have practiced catch and release for over 20 years or longer, but there was a time when I kept many of my catches. I remember when I was single and doing a lot of solo trips, I would make breakfast, lunch, and dinner almost exclusively out of the trout I caught.

There is nothing better than fresh trout cooked in tinfoil over an open fire. This is especially true when you have spent the best part of a day concentrating on fly fishing without the thought of food or water.

If I know I'm going on a long day trip or over-nighter, I will plan to cook a few streamside trout. I put some folded tinfoil, matches, a fork, and a small container of seasoning in my day-pack. After fishing for a few hours, I will keep a couple of trout, clean them, wrap them in the foil, and then build a small stick fire. It's a quick and delicious streamside meal. The nourishment allows me to continue fishing into the evening.

In the poem, I write about "faint ghosts caught in the breeze." This is in reference to a belief that all creatures have a spirit. I was told by someone years ago that some fish eating native American tribes after catching and cleaning a fish would hang the heads of the fish in the trees along the river so the spirit of the fish could enter back into them, and the waters would always have fish in them. I don't know if this is true or if it was just a story, but I like the idea.

My first real sign that spring is here has always been when the Blue-winged Olive mayflies start to hatch on my local waters. This will happen sometime in March. It is a time of awakening, not only for the mayflies, but for the trout. It's not that far away--still, I can't wait!

Lessons from a Campfire

"We need to build a fire to get warm," a Scout said as he climbed out of his tent at 2:00 AM. We were on an overnight winter camp back in 1993. I told the other leader that it would happen, as we nestled into our sleeping bags that chilly night. "You watch," I said. At about two or three in the morning the Scouts will be cold and will climb out of their sleeping bags and tents and want to build a fire."  Just as I predicted, it was happening.

I also knew that the Scouts would not be able to build a fire and that I would end up out in the cold showing them how. I waited. This was a teaching opportunity and one that I was familiar with. I've watched a lot of Scouts try to build fires. I've watched them on overnight camps as well as week long camps, but the best time to watch and to teach is on winter camps. Cold and sometimes wet conditions have a way of sending a message home. "Does anyone know how to start a fire?" "I'm freezing!" "Where's the matches?" "Here, grab these logs and put them in the fire pit." "I wish we had some gas." I stayed in my tent just a little longer. Th Scouts had to at least try before I came to the rescue.

I dressed and climbed out of my tent. The Scouts turned and begged for help. "Hurry, hurry, they yelled. As I started to gather some wood, I mentioned something about being prepared. I told them that a Scout should be able to start a fire with only two matches. "Take all the logs that you have placed in the fire pit and set them off to the side," I said. "Go look under that tarp and bring me some of the wood," I asked. A couple of Scouts quickly lifted the tarp grabbed some wood and placed it by me. "This wood was split and prepared before we came to camp," I said. "If you notice, it is stacked under the tarp according to size." What we need to do to get a fire going is to start with the smallest pieces and build up as we go. In fact, the pieces need to be so small, I will have to shave off some very small splinters with my knife." I opened my pocket knife and shaved off several small, thin wafers of wood. I then even split these into even smaller pieces. I showed the Scouts how to build a small Tepee with the shavings . I asked them to arrange the other pieces of wood near the fire pit according to size and to be ready to hand them to me when I asked for them.

I took out one stick match and stroked it against one of the rocks lining the fire pit and then gently held it under the small wood Tepee. The small wood shavings started to light and I asked on of the Scouts to hand me some more shavings. I placed these gently on top of the ignited pieces slowly piece by piece as the fire started to catch. Once these pieces where burning well, I asked the Scouts to hand me a few of the larger pieces of wood. Soon we had a decent fire going and the cold Scouts huddled around rubbing there hands and drying there wet socks and shoes on the rocks that lined the fire pit.

As we warmed near the fire and placed larger logs on its flames, I mentioned how building a fire is similar to how we build our lives. We start out with limited knowledge and experience. We learn the basics line upon line, here a little, there a little until we have more knowledge and more ability. As we gain in knowledge and ability, we are able to do more with our lives. I then mentioned that once we have our own fires within us burning and going strong, we should use that knowledge, talent, and ability to help others. Just as this fire provides light and warmth to all of us who surround it, our lives, can provide light and warmth to those around us.

Great Lessons from 2012

The past year was a great learning experience for me. I'm glad that I'm still able and willing to learn. I think the most important thing I learned is this: our journey on this planet doesn't always turn out the way we plan or want it to. This one important lesson was driven home when my wife and I tried to hike to the top of Timpanogos Peak.

We thought about the hike, dreamed about the hike, and planned for the hike. It was a tall  (no pun intended) task for us. Physically, we were prepared, yet we found ourselves challenged in some sections of the trail. I will admit my wife is a slow hiker, and I've had to learn a measure of patience when hiking with her. This patience has allowed me to realize that there is more to hiking than getting to the end of the trail and back. There are beauties to behold and transcendental thoughts to be entertained.

We hiked with another couple and I became aware of their needs. We slowed them down. They were in the mode of an endurance athlete in a marathon. Time was important to them. Had we not been so slow, the decision to go all the way to the summit would have been easier, but to push the last mile to the summit would have taken close to another hour at the pace we were hiking. We discussed several scenarios that would allow my wife her goal of making it to the top, but we eventually talked her out of it.

My hang-up was fear of the last mile of trail. I have always been afraid of heights and in my "older" years I find it is more prominent. About 28 years ago I was diagnosed with Menieries disease. I have had vertigo issues, and hearing loss. When we made it to the saddle and I took the final steps over a narrow angled trail and viewed the valley below, I became afraid. The remainder of the trail looked to be on a steep angle. I convinced my mind that I could go no farther. Taking into consideration the time restraint and my own fear, we decided that we had made a good enough effort and we needed to get back down off the mountain. My wife was saddened. As I think back, I feel sorry that she was not able to reach the summit. I have no doubt that she would have had we been hiking alone.

I don't think we will ever go back and attempt to make the summit. We have to be satisfied with what we did accomplish on that hike. We made it to the saddle which is a worthy goal and the actual destination of many hikers. We saw terrain, wildlife, and sights and sounds that we would have never seen if we had not attempted to summit. We learned some valuable lessons about ourselves and about our interactions as a wife and husband. I've come to realize that we didn't settle for anything less, by not reaching the top. I'm sure their are others who would consider us failures for not making that final push, but satisfaction is a matter of perception.

This past year, I was able to get out and do some exploring with my fly fishing. I fished two small creeks that I knew about for several years but never made the effort to get to them. They were brushy, small, and held small colorful trout. For me, this type of fishing is what I enjoy. I find much satisfaction in the solitude and beauty of these small waters. While others are concerned with the size of trout they catch and the social aspects of angling with others, I've realized, after trying to reach the "summit" of the fly fishing and tying arena, that I don't need it. My wife has accompanied me on most of these little adventures and her companionship to, from, and on the water, have been a great blessing to me and I believe to her too. I look forward to many more adventures in 2013.

This past year has also taught me that the most important blessing I have in my life is family. I have come to realize that the greatest love is unconditional. While each of my children are different, I get to love them all unconditionally. It's still a learning process, as I sometimes feel disappointment when I feel that my children are not making it to the "summit" that I have in my view for them. The journey with them, however, is so enjoyable and brings joy into my life.

As a member of the LDS Church, our family has had the opportunity to send my two sons on missions for the Church in the past few years. Their missions were different and learning experiences for all of us. I love the fact that they made offerings to the Lord even though the experiences ended up being different than what we thought they might be. I can say that I have never had more emotional and spiritual feelings than I did with the return of my sons from their missions. Each of them had reached a "summit" in their lives and in so doing brought to our view as a family, the beauties of God.

I look forward to the lessons of 2013. Hopefully, I'll be able to get "out there" as much or more than I did this past year.

Thanks for following along with this blog. I hope you find some value in it. I might not be able to take you to every "summit", but I hope as I have learned, the journey always has value.

Good Reason to Drop Some of the Electronics

http://www.ksl.com/?sid=23343018&nid=1012&title=time-in-nature-increases-creativity-u-researcher-says&s_cid=queue-12

I've always felt this to be the case. Now research is showing it. Get OUT THERE!

The Dipper

I wonder if the Ouzel sings? If so, I don't know if I'd recognize his song. I have watched him hop from rock to rock along the stream. I've watched him dive into the water and come out as dry as he went in. I've watched him squat to the rhythm of the cascades. I've watched him catch and eat aquatic insects, but never have I witnessed his song. He must sing. He has to sing. He has to be happy; spending all his days along the river's edge. He looks happy.

I've shared the water with him. He's as good a companion as one could want. He minds his own business and I mind mine. My goal is to find out if he sings. Most birds do. A while back I was thinking about the Dipper's antics and wrote the following poem:

Ouzel

The constant squatting,
a dance to the gurgle
of minature waterfalls;
the Dipper disappears
by diving, then bounces
up out of the water
dry as charcoal.
He hops from rock to rock,
and checks moist mats of moss
for meals of midges,
stoneflies, caddis, and mayfly nymphs.
This bird, like an aquatic insect
emerges from the water,
sprouts wings, and flies away.
 

 

Cold Reflecting

It's cold. But not the bitter kind.
Breath in morning
warms by afternoon.
Voices invisable.

Along the river,
frozen tracks melt.
Textured trunks
hold stonefly skins.

Midges stagnate
on a conveyer belt
of liquid gray.
Some cluster.

Insignificant images.

SNOW!

   Every time we have our first substantial snow of the year, I get the urge to read "Winter, Notes from Montana" by Rick Bass or "Arctic Dreams" by Barry Lopez.  In the cover flap of :Winter", is this description of the book:

   "In this celebration of winter in a remote valley of thirty inhabitants, the valley in Montana without electricity, Rick Bass describes the wildness and the freedom of the valley people, the slow-motion quality of life as if it were one hundred years ago.
   Impressions abound; trees popping like firecrackers in the dead of winter; white rabbits as large as cats; bull elk eating hay along side cows; the Dirty Shame Saloon, where the people gamble, drink beer, gossip, and watch football on TV. Rick Bass describes the physical dangers of wilderness life: getting lost in a blizzard; how a chain saw can rip open your leg; the omnipresent threat of fire. Winter is a book about the excitement of matching landscape to life, about how one man and one woman have searched for and found that place to call their abiding own."

   I suppose the reason I like to read this book in the winter is because, I too feel the slow-motion when the snow lands here in Utah. I have to admit that snow and winter are not my favorite things. I tolerate winter. The snow really puts a damper on the things I enjoy. I know that there are many outdoor activities that can be enjoyed in snow and cold, but to me it's not the same as my warmer season outings.

   In winter, my mind also turns to the Bear Lake Valley. My ancestors settled in that valley back sometime in the 1860's. What I find fascinating about that valley is the harshness of winter. Winter comes early there and stays late. On the Idaho side of the lake, the population of the towns has not changed much since the first pioneer communities were set up. Many of the families were "called" to settle that area by Mormon prophet Brigham Young. Living there was tough back then and even with modern conveniences, it is somewhat tough today. I once read or heard someone say that the people that are descendants from the original pioneer stock that still live there are tough. The saying is something like this: Brigham Young sent families to settle the Bear Lake Valley. Some  families stayed and died, some families left, so only the tough ones remained. I can sense that attitude with descendants of the pioneers today. If you do a search you can find the names of the families Brigham Young sent to that valley. Even though many of their children have grown and moved away over the years, some have stayed and some have returned. Some have historical lands that are now summer get-a-ways. There are also those who have no attachment to the place other than they like to recreate on the landscape and have purchased summer retreats and to a lesser degree winter retreats for that purpose. As you interact with the different people in the valley, you can tell which ones have a connection to place over a long time versus those whose connection is not as long or as strong.

   The reason my mind turns to Bear Lake in winter, is one of fantasy. I envision myself as the lonely writer holed up in a wood stove warmed cabin, typing out stories of wild  outdoor adventures. A writer who has all the spring, summer, and fall, experiences of hiking, fly fishing, mountain biking, camping, and exploring pouring out of his mind and onto a page of blank paper.

   Years ago, I told my mom I could spend all winter in our families summer home in Bear Lake. She gasped and said, "Why would you want to do that? And what about a social life?" I told her that I would write articles and books and would only have to go outside to handle chores and maybe do some snowshoeing, or ice fishing. I told her that social life would be taken care of on Sundays by attending the local Mormon church. That was pretty much the end of the conversation. I think that some people acquaint being alone with loneliness--and sometimes mental illness.

   So I've reached for "Winter" and found "Arctic Dreams" on the bookshelf. I've looked out the window and calculated the depth of the fallen snow. My mind is slowing down and I'm wondering if this will be a long winter. These early snows indicate that it might be a long one.

   I've promised a neighbor that I will take him winter whitefishing on the Weber River this year. I haven't done that for a while. It's one way of getting outdoors. I actually enjoy it when the sun is out.
I think I will spend some of my winter "free time" tying up some flies to use on the whitefish and maybe store up some patterns for summer use.

   Cabin fever is starting early. I know why bears hibernate through winter.