delux burger, delux desert: phoenix is a farce

Ed Abbey is full of shit. The desert isn’t beautiful. It’s harsh and hot and prickly with cacti and snake fangs. Perhaps the Gila isn’t desert, but it’s really close. I saw three types of cactus. Lots of Ponderosa pine on the north facing slopes of the mountains. I saw the cliff dwellings and hiked up over the mountain and into “The Meadows” which is about in the middle of the Gila Wilderness on the middle fork of the Gila River. I went to the Gila to fish for the Gila trout, a sub (?) species of rainbow trout native to the mountains of SW New Mexico and SW Arizona. It has been protected for the last 50 years or so. They were only in a few headwater streams and fishing for them was prohibited. But they’ve been nursed back to health and fishing opens for them on July 1st. When I planned this trip the date was still undecided so I thought I might get to fish for them. But I was early. So I fished for rainbows and smallmouth and hoped to see a Mexican wolf. No dice on the wolf. Or bear. Or mountain lion.

I spent six nights in the Gila, four in the back country. Hiked out nine miles on Thursday and drove six and a half hours to Phoenix where I met up with THE MB Pell at his temporary home The Crystal Meth Suites. Phoenix is a strange city. One big strip mall. 111 degrees. The water’s briny and tastes like chlorine. People shouldn’t live here. But they do. A lot of them. But there’s a cool restaurant here called Delux that serves a mean 9$ hamburger and has a good beer selection. I had an Alaskan Amber, New Belgian Wit, Lost Coast Wit, and a Bridgeport IPA. Good stuff. But the service wasn’t so hot.





The Gila Cliff dwellings. Some Mogollon folks lived here in the 1200s. Also kind of looks like a Planet of Apes Mt. Rushmore. Click for bigger.





The only snake I saw was a Sonoron mountain King snake which was cool.



Tha cacti.







The insects.

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There was a nice hatch of these bugs that the trout were feeding on pretty well. I think it's some sort of caddis. Or maybe even a little stone fly? Click for bigger.



A dobson fly. What hellgramites turn into, I think.



The bane of my existence in the Meadows. These things hurt when they bit and they didn't let go when you stamped your foot.



The clouds were nice in the Gila. Click them for bigger.











The feeshes. In all their glory.

I got a huge carp on a Clouser minnow. Click for bigger.



Don't know what this fish is. He was feeding on the surface like a trout. A chubb maybe? Daniel? Maureen?



Some bronzebacks. Caught most of them on Clousers and a brown wooly bugger.

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And last but not least, the trout. I only caught rainbows. There are supposedly browns higher up, which is kind of weird. I also like to think that some of these rainbows were gila hybrids. But they probably weren't.

Click these three for bigger.













Most of the fish were fairly pale. But I hiked up Indian Creek Canyon one day. It was pretty much bone dry. But towards the bottom there were a couple of very stagnant, algae covered pools. And in one of the biggest ones I saw several fish feeding voraciously on the surface. Who knows how long they can live in that? Either way, I thought this was pretty cool. I liked how the fish from the pool is much darker than the others.



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Some cool rocks I saw up Indian Creek. Looks vaguely like Mars eating his children. When I told MB Pell that he said "you spent too much time in the desert".

downtown with my pants off, Santa Fe

Or I was. With a towel wrapped turban-style around my wet hair. Pants off until I had to go explore a bit. New Mexico is a lot like Old Mexico. But better roads I guess. And actually, it was mostly Mexico until 1912. Lots of clay or adobe or whatever it is all the buildings are made out of. A little disorienting to be honest. Lots of Mexicanos, or people with some sort of native American genetics I suppose. Mexicans have always struck me as tough. I'm always afraid that they're going to try and push me around. Is that racist? Is that a stereotype? Does the fact that I don't think black people should get reparations for slavery but I'm fine with reservations and tax breaks and legal gambling for natives, does this make me a racist? These are the things I wondered about as I drove around the crooked streets of Santa Fe.

The city center is a bit of a tourist trap, despite its very early colonial charm. I tried to go outside this area, down to the 2nd Street Brewery on Grant's recommendation, but it was packed with dirty hippies and I didn't think I'd fit in.

So I went uptown to the Cowgirl (also on Grant's recommendation) where I ordered food to go and waited at the bar staring at the 37 year old bartender's beautiful ass sheathed in tight, low cut blue jeans. She was very flirty. I tipped well. I'm a sucker. I enjoyed an Odell's Cutthroat Porter (fitting name) and a Steamboat (?) IPA. They were both excellent.

I also chatted with a guy whose making a movie in the area. The 4th Indiana Jones. He's a grip. I asked him what else he worked on and he listed a bunch of movies made when I was still an infant: Blues Brothers, Biggest Little Whorehouse in Texas (one of my grandfather's favorites), 9 to 5 and other Dolly Parton greats. He had a lot of tatoos.

Also, a short but tough looking Mexican man with a skull cap pony tail (a tuft of hair on the top of the skull, the rest shorn clean, descending tightly in braids to the middle of his back) told me to "enjoy your beer man, you earned it." There was only one open seat and his wife sat there and I offered him mine, I only had a wee bit left in the glass. I think he assumed that because of my severe sunburn and two week old beard I was some sort of manual laborer, a landscaper perhaps. I was a landscaper at one or two times in my life, but this beard and burn were accumulated by standing around at 10,000' flinging a little tuft of hair and feathers at rising trout.

But it wasn't all luxury up in Rocky Mountain National Park. Hiking up and down the mountain at altitude can really take it out of you. And the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes and flies were horrendous. Particularly in the woods. It's like Canadian shield of something.

Anyway, I spent five days in the backcountry, fished three different lakes, caught a lot of greenback cutthroats, got some serious sunburn, and generally had a very fine time.

Here are some pictures.

I camped above "the pool" the first night. I thought the pool sounded like good fishing, but it wasn't. This is the pool.



Back when I was paddling whitewater, I could have run this. Fern Falls.



This was posted at Fern Lake. I didn't see anything bigger than a Marmot. Except the elk and deer. But the elk were everywhere in the park. Like squirrels at IU.



The patrol hut at Fern Lake that is "not routinely staffed".



It rained the first day I was there. This is above Fern Lake. Click both to enlarge.






Giant cutthroat eats Rockies.



The greenback cutthroat is a rare subspecies of cutthroat that survives in small, headwater streams and lakes mostly in Rocky Mountain National Park. This is the time they spawn (supposedly) and they all (or just the males?) have on their fancy red color. They always have a little red on their throats, hence the name, but this time of year they are rather spectacular. I've made a mosaic of greenback. Click it for a glorious bigger version. Click to enlarge.




Spruce lake is a couple hundred feet above Fern lake and about a mile to the north. I caught a lot of fish there. I also wanted to get up to an even higher lake, Loomis Lake, but I couldn't find the trail. There was a lot of snow and it was very, very steep. Click to enlarge.




A second giant cutthroat discovered!



Fern lake again. Click to enlarge.




Odessa lake is about a mile to the south of Fern lake and a couple hundred feet higher than Spruce lake. It was very pretty there. Click for bigger.




I really wanted to climb above tree line at least once and this seemed like the best way to go. This was steep, about 45 degrees, but above that, at least looking at the map, it was a fairly easy half mile walk to treeline. Unfortunately, about 1/4 of the way up I broke through the snow and found myself dangling four feet above a pretty serious torrent of runoff. I was lucky I guess that I didn't break through with both feet and get stuck under there. I slid down slowly and carefully.



Odessa lake looking east back down toward Fern lake. Click to enlarge.




The outlet of Odessa lake. There was a lot of snow up there.



Looking down on Fern lake from the trail to Odessa.



Fern lake again.



Did I mention the bugs were bad? They loved my stinky sock liners.




Tomorrow it's off to the Forks of the Gila, the land of Mogollon. The land of Geronimo. The land of Leopold.

The land of many rattlesnakes.

Then onto Phoenix. The temporary land of MB Pell! The blaze of leather.

you don't see us, but we see you

Wednesday and Thursday June 6th and 7th

A hot wind blows in Kansas. 30, 40, 50 mph sustained winds? I’ve got to hold the wheel constantly to the left to make up for the wind. Killed the fuel efficiency. Roughly 375 miles per tank. Normally I get over 430. I guess the good thing about Kansas is that’s it’s hard to hide as a policeman. Except Chris got a ticket. 84 in a 70. He also ran over a shredded truck tire. It made a very loud noise. Chris and I tensed. Eyes wide. Ears perked. Leaning forward. Not speaking. Listening. For something. Hissing of tire? Can you hear that in the car flying over the wind scoured Kansas prairie? No flat tire. We keep driving. No problem until we pull into the gas station and Chris makes a sharp left turn. There was a clunk. A cruuaaanch. A bundle of wires hanging dangly from the wheel well. The sheathing worn through by the rubbing of the tire. Bare wires. Holy shit. This is not good.
The interior of the gas station was generously adorned with deer heads. And an elk head. White tail. Mule deer. We bought some electric tape and slowly wrapped each bare wire then bundled them up and with two pieces of Daniel’s red rope I secured the bundle to the holes in the wheel well where the original plastic clips held it for a dusty decade. Seems to be holding so far. I guess we’ll see. I think the real test will be wet weather.

Six hours of flat. But Kansas does has wireless internet access at rest stops. Which is cool.

Arrived at Ian and Kate’s in downtown Denver. They have a very nice apartment with an incredible view.

Some beers I drank:

Odell’s 5 Barrel: too prickly, long, spindly hop darts, kind of musty. Target? Challenger even? Not my favorite but widely loved by Chris, Ian and Kate.

Odell’s 90 Schilling: nice, toasty, almost burnt, but restrained. Beautiful. Drinkable. I love you.

Stopped in Lyon’s on the way to Estes Park and our cabin on the Big Thompson. Oscar Blues is there. Nice brewery. Wish I would have tried the Imperial Stout, Tenfidy (10.5% abv), and the cream ale, but I didn’t.

Oskar Blues Leroy: good, hearty brown ale. Tuned-down Old Chubb. Very drinkable.

Oskar Blues Dales: big for a pale ale. Not as good as the New York Times says it is. But canned craft beer rules.

Oskar Blues Old Chub: love it. Sweetish, but not too much. Very malty.

Oskar Blues Gordon: big, dare I say standard, American double IPA. It’s ok. Heartburn bringer.

Deep in the Big Thompson Canyon, Ian assaults me on the couch. He’s drunk. I’m a little drunk. Chris is kind of drunk. He’s got a cold. I’m learning to play hearts, a strange game. I don’t really have any intuition for the thing.

Caught a beautiful wild rainbow trout in the river tonight just behind our cabin. The Big Thompson River is very nice for the fishing. Wild browns and wild rainbows. Catch and release. We will catch many fish only seconds from our rustic cabin along the highway.

Got three hours of sleep last night sleeping with Chris in the king size bed in the guest room in Ian’s building. Denver is a manageable city. Clean. Pretty. Tame. That’s not why I didn’t sleep well. I think it was the discovery that there’s more bureaucracy to wade through than I expected. Reservations. Fees. Phone calls. Golden Trout Wilderness trailheads are rationed. Rocky Mountain National Park is really cold and snowy. Though that’s not a bureaucratic detail. Luckily, the Gila Wilderness, my 2nd destination, is a good old fashioned wilderness: 3.3 million acres open to exploration. No permits. No fees. “Camping is permitted anywhere in the wilderness. Please dispose of human waste responsibly. No littering. Camping in the wilderness can be dangerous. Please plan accordingly. Have a nice time.”

Friday June 8th

Bonobos are lovers. The thumber is one of their favorite moves.

Big Sky Moose Drool: Sean O’Connell brought this back from his trips to the Yellowstone wilds one time. I like this beer a lot. Very solid brown ale. Excellent session beer. Maybe on the strong side but I’ve had three or so in the last 2 hours and I’m enjoying myself very much thank you. Better than Leroy. A bit lighter and more drinkable but still flavorful and just terribly enjoyable.

Ian’s gas is dense like liquid foam. Brown, liquid foam. Chris and Ian are very much outdoing me in the gaseous expulsion category this weekend. Matt Dunn, a person of small wind on this trip. Tis a strange time.

My Indiana plates in the parking spot. Chris in Missouri from PA. Ian in Denver, in Nashville!, from Westport Connecticut. We are not from the Midwest. After my trip through Kansas I can at least say: Indiana, hey, at least it’s not Kansas.

Ian wants to start a science themed brewpub with me. He talks a lot of nonsense when he gets going.

Saturday June 9th

Caught a 12-14” greenback today in Dream Lake. The elevation makes hiking hard. We have a very nice table in the cabin. Laminated. But still, nice and worn and scratched up with the veneer worn off on one end, perhaps from fly tying, I thought as I clamped my vice to the table.

Ian caught a fish today. He has good nymphing mechanics (that I taught him). I caught a nice fat 14” rainbow and pretty 10” brown. Chris hooked up with a couple fish but lost them. As per the norm. He then sat on the bank for 30 minutes trying to tie a blood knot. He had the direction of wrap all wrong.

Finally got around to the O’Dell’s Double Pilsner. A very excellent “double beer”. My experience with double pilsners has not been great. Rogue? No good. But this beer actually tastes like a pilsner. Maybe a little tight in the finish. Glassy, but tight. Nice, grassy, herbal (appley?) hops up front. Strongly bitter, but only enough to balance the rather sweet finish that is the downfall of many double pilsners. Pils are light, crisp, refreshing beers. Not sweet, glassy, goupy 8% behemoth. But O’Dell’s comes closest to maintaining the façade of a pils.

Had more Moose Drool. Four more tonight. I love that beer.

I wiss mhiskey. You say that like you actually do miss whiskey.

You say that like you actually do miss whiskey.

Back in Denver now. Heading back to Rocky Mountain National Park tomorrow for four nights of solo backcountry camping and fishing. Hopefully I won't get the terrors.












Supplies in the cabin.



Big Thompson rainbow. Click for bigger.




Chris and Ian in the Fall River in the park fishing for Greenbacks. Chris caught one! It was very windy. Click for bigger.






Big T brown trout that was rising but wouldn't take my dry flies. So I tossed him a wooly bugger and the rest is history. Click or bigger.




Ian and some of the cabin's incredible art work.



Ian and his first fish on a fly rod.



Big Big T rainbow. Click for bigger.






Greenback I caught on Dream Lake. The camera took a movie instead of a picture so this is a snapshot from that. Hence the quality issue.



Dream Lake. Click for bigger.




Chris fishing on Dream Lake.



Ian didn't bring his rod because he said he wasn't going to fish. But then he wanted to. Kate said "tie some leader on a stick".



Me and my camo. You don't see us, but we see you.



That is all.

mysterious, remote, brook trout stream

I'm leaving in about two hours for the wild west. Well, first to Missouri. The Gateway to the West. But then tomorrow to Colorado I go. So it's time to get the east coast out of my system for now and post some pictures from an exciting and tiring 12 mile hike I took about 10 days ago in Pennsylvania. I circumnavigated a four or five mile section of a small stream that is in an isolated watershed on the Allegheny Plateau. I won't say where because there are no pictures of this stream online (at least that I can find) and I want to keep it that way. Suffice it to say that it is SOUTH of route 80. That's a huge hint because not much of the Allegheny plateau is south of rt.80. Particularly not a section as remote as this.

So this stream is supposed to hold a ridiculous population of native brookies and some big ones too. I caught a few little guys, 5-6 inches was the average, and missed many more. But I did see a big guy, probably 10-12 inches that I spooked. A very nice trout for this extremely skinny water. Reminded me of Panthertown actually.

This is a pretty transitional area, from the Ridge and Valley province and it's Appalachian Oak forests to the Allegheny plateau and its northern hardwoods association. It was all logged maybe 100 or 150 years ago so the forest isn't terribly old. It's a strange, open, park-like forest with a thick shrub layer of blueberry on the uplands and scattered in the valleys, but rhododendron is more common in the valleys. This is about 2000' in elevation. I walked along this for a mile or so then descended a medium grade slope a couple hundred vertical feet into the stream valley that was less than a mile wide and about 4 miles long. Click for bigger.




Busy beaver. Lots of beaver dams in the valley.



The valley was a mix of open, dammed, marshy, sand and silt substrate areas with blueberries, and wooded, high gradient, rocky sections.



A wooded, rocky section. I caught a number of trout out of this tiny pool at the top of the picture.



A big, open spot where I saw the big trout. Click for bigger.




Average size fish. They were much lighter in the open spots than in the wooded areas. Click for bigger.




Good spring flowers. Lot of Trillium and I saw that orchid on Penn's Creek. Click both for bigger.







The headwaters. A lot of little springs. Click for bigger.




Did some fishing one night in Black Moshannon Lake (another hint). Caught a pickerel and these other fishes. Click none for bigger.







The western onslaught will begin soon. Brace yourself.