It seems like most of August has been spent in our Toyota Corolla driving to and from some family function. We started the month by driving 15 hrs straight from LV to the metropolis of Powell for my Grandma Hopkin's B-day and, unfortunately, my Grandpa Wharton's funeral. He passed away from complications of a stroke and just plain old-age. He lived a good life and was 86 at the time he passed away. We loved him and continue to, he will be missed.
The trip wasn't all doom and gloom though, we did get to see lots of cousins and aunts and uncles. I think Trina felt a little lost amidst all the Hopkins (that's how I felt with just her immediate family for the first year) but she did well and was very cute, as usual.
After most of the family had gone home we were able to spend a few days doing what we wanted and I, of course, wanted to get uo in the mountains. We decided to head for the Big Horn Mtns to the east of Powell. I've always liked these mountains, they're not as well known as some of the other ranges but I think they are some of the prettiest. We invited Mom and the Grandmas to head up with us for lunch the first day. Thankfully, they drove their own car, that much old ladiness in a confined space might have had me looking to join Grandpa Wharton. Just kidding, it was fun to have them along and I'm sure it was the first time in a few years that Grandma Wharton had been out somewhere.
Trina and I had rented a room at a lodge on the mtn so after lunch and after the old folks went back to town and we went and checked in. Being true Whartons, after check-in we promptly took a good two hour "nap". After nap time I was getting the itch to chase the wily trout so I looked at a map I had borrowed and came up with a plan.
The largest river on this mtn is the Tongue. It has two forks, a north, and a south. I found on the map where the two forks converged and thought it looked like a good place to try my luck. It was a little off the highway (only 2 miles on a dirt road and another mile by foot) so I thought we could avoid the crowds. First, let me say that it takes a real man to drive a Toyota Corolla on a pot-holed mountain road. Anyone can drive a 4x4 with two feet of ground clearance but only the boldest (craziest) do it with a vehicle with six inches of clearance.
We made it safely down the dirt road(didn't bottom out once) and found our trail head. We loaded up and were on our way. The trail was large, it was at one time a road but was all over grown now. The hike went well, it wasn't too steep and the weather was good. I was thinking to myself as we walked "it would be cool to see a moose or elk today" and about that time we came around a corner that opened into a clearing. At the edge of the clearing I quickly noticed a large dark colored animal feeding. For a split second I thought "cool a moose" then immediately realized it was too short for a moose. About the time I realized it was no moose it raised its head and there was no mistaking it anymore. About 25 or 30 yds in front of us was a black bear.
Trina was about two steps ahead of me when I realized what it was so I immediately grabbed her by the arm and told her "there's a bear". Luckily for us, as soon as the bear realized what we were he turned straight around and was gone in a flash. In my mind it seems longer but the entire encounter probably lasted 5 or 6 seconds. By the way, a bear makes a lot of noise running through the woods.
Trina say she was worried as soon as we got out of the car because of all the dead and rotting wood on the ground. She said a silent prayer for safety while we were walking. It might have been the prayer that kept us safe but I like to think that that old bear saw my 185 lbs of mean muscle on the other side of the clearing and ran for his own preservation. Ok, it was the prayer.
After our encounter with the bear and discovering that the two rivers converged at the bottom of a canyon we decided to call an end to this adventure and try our luck closer to the highway. I had some decent luck, nothing too big but lots of bites and a few fish.
Cut-throat, kinda skinny
Nice brookie.
This moose (not bear) was hiding in the willows about 10-15 feet from where I was fishing.
1 comment:
True Whartons not only take naps, but avoid bears like the plague. I think one of the reasons I don't like to camp all that much is because of all the bear stories Dad told us as a child. I remeber one time hearing that a bear climbed through a window in some house, somewhere in Wyoming and ate a kid. I was terrified to use the upstairs bathroom at Grandma's house, for fear that a bear would come through the window and attack me and no one would notice for a while. I am glad you guys are less paranoid.
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