A Year Brushes By

It's been one year since I last stepped foot into the wilderness of Wyoming's Yellowstone National Park. In August of 2010, two good friends and I enjoyed a fishing trip like no other. We fished, hiked, and spotted wildlife in the backcountry for six consecutive days. We had a few close encounters with bears—a particularly memorable one with an ornery black bear and a backcountry ranger.  The memory of the trip is still as vivid as the days I was living it.  It will always be a cherished life memory. Countless nights and days, I've conjured up the scenes we lived in those six suns.  Tower Creek. Hellroaring Creek. Cache Creek.  Perhaps, our most productive days of flyfishing were discovered on those small mountain streams.  Teaming with aggressive native cutthroat, rainbows, and brook trout rising to our terrestrials, I enjoyed those days of solitude most.  I hope to step back into the dreamworld in a year or two.

Upon our eventual reuniting of nightly council around the campfire, I am sure a return trip to Hellroaring Creek and the Black Canyon of Yellowstone will be considered.  A pleasant day hike that involves feisty fish and plenty of solitude is pretty much standard order for us, and there is plenty of it here.   We even had the opportunity to chance upon a morning herd of pronghorn, and I shall always remember the sound of their rushing hooves—like breeze over praire grass.

Of all the days of the trip, this one was completely spent afield. Venturing out in the morning dew and returning in the ruddy evening light, we were awash in satisfaction. One last look over my shoulder at the Yellowstone River—I will see her again in this beautiful valley of green and gold.