Hare-ly Got One

I went to the far tip Yellowstone Lake's remote Southeast Arm mixing my tracks with those from grizzlies, wolves and moose. I was pretty on edge with all those Big Animals around. So what beast did I have a weird, close encounter with? A snowshoe hare.  Last night one of the big-footed hoppers came and warmed itself by my campfire. It was strange and sweet. Please tell me if there are any religions in which a campfire visit from a snowshoe hare foretells something ominous.

For four damn days I hiked in search of the now-rare Yellowstone Lake cutthroat trout. For 32 of 36 miles I saw just five, one in Beaverdam Creek (a 17 mile hike) and four rising in the lake (which I surf fished hard, but caught nothing due to the low numbers of cutts and murky water).

Quite the scenery, though, like Yellowstone Lake at Signal Point.

Those purple-turning mountains beyond my campfire make up the Thorofare, the part of the continental U.S. furthest from any road. I had planned to go in there, but Beaverdam Creek (in the foreground) was too high to ford, and I'd already gone through one that was chest-high. Still, I was a little crestfallen.

I mentioned wolf tracks, right?

On the way out today I explored up a feeder stream so thick in Griz country that rangers who used to work there drove spikes into trees so they could ladder up if a bruin came at them. I found this. Whaddya' think, 26-inches? Salmon-sized.

I'd hike three-dozen miles for a trout like that.

Now go make lots of babies, loverboy.

Keep tabs on where I'm at here.