Falling out of a tree and other fun weekend activities.
Deborah Lewis
We rented a forest service cabin for the weekend, near the headwaters of
the Little Blackfoot river.
The Little Blackfoot is my husbands current favorite fly fishing river.
Mostly because it's the one we're closest to and he can get there easily
after work and fish for a few hours. We get up near the headwaters
about once a year and camp, but we loaned our tent to David's sister and
it's in Germany now so we rented the cabin for three days and two nights.
Dylan and I went up early Friday morning and got everything unpacked and
went for a hike. We only intended to be gone for two hours or so but I
left my watch behind and we wandered back considerably later than I
intended. David was there, having come up later after getting off work.
We had late night round the campfire, watching the stars.
Saturday morning David went fishing and later reported he'd caught every
brookie and cut throat in the river. He lost one fly but gained a frog,
who attached himself to David's wader and didn't want to leave.
We had been watching a moose in the river that morning so David was
expecting to have some company while he fished. He did see two moose and
maneuvered around them, but the frog was harder to avoid.
This is the river he was fishing two years ago when a bear chased him
into the water. The bear gets bigger every time he tells the story, so
I'm sure the frog will too. <g>
While David was fishing Dylan and I went hiking up the four wheeler trail
behind the cabin. We saw elk and moose and evidence of bears but no
bears in person. We kept hiking when we lost the trail and went to the
top of the mountain where we could look across to the west and see our
own mountain range, the Flint Creek range and beyond that the Sapphire
Mountains and the Garnet range to the north. We found a great lodge
pole, misshapen by mistletoe, and ate our lunch under it in a sea of
blue lupine. This great old tree was perfect for climbing, really
perfect, but I'm not as good a tree climber as I used to be. Come to
think of it I was never great. I fell out of our big cottonwood when I
was five and broke my collar bone. My mother had told me I'd break my
neck someday and when I fell I was so mad that she had been right I hid
from her for half a day before she found me whimpering under the bed with
my growing bruise and lumpy shoulder. This lodge pole was a little like
that cotton wood and maybe I still had my mothers voice in my head
because I fell out of the tree. I didn't break anything this time but I
must have bruised a rib because I'm an interesting shade of yellowish
green today on my right side and it hurts if I breathe deeply.
Dylan, it turns out, is a fearless tree and rock climber in spite of
seeing his old mother fall. Because I'd forgotten my compass and we'd
gotten a little creative with our trail blazing we were temporarily
misplaced for a while and had to back track about a half mile before we
found our trail again. The three hour hike back down to the cabin was
less fun than the hike up had been, but I ate some hot peppers and felt
better and moaned enough that David cooked for us while I lounged by the
campfire. <g> Turns out I can spit a cherry pit cleanly twelve feet to
the back of the head of a smart ass husband. I'm continually amazed by
my own talents.
We waited for the coyotes that night and when we couldn't wait any longer
we howled to get them started. It worked too, and we had a howling
chorus for about twenty minutes. We're easily amused, I guess.
Dylan broke up a fight between two macho pine sawyer beetles. It's
amazing how much power those little buggers have and how tough they are.
He'd carry one away to a different log and it'd fly back to engage in
combat with the other again. Now we'll have to see if we can find out
why they fight, if it's territory or women or just the pine sawyer tough
man competition.
Sunday David left early to get ready for work and Dylan and I stayed to
play a little and investigate a different trail. We're going up there
this week, or on the weekend to hike the Blackfoot meadows trail so maybe
we'll get back for the other, too. I've been up the Blackfoot meadows
trail but Dylan hasn't. It's an eight hour hike if you don't dawdle
climbing trees. I'm not sure about the trail we found and started up
Sunday because I can't find it on the map but that's all the more reason
to see what's at the other end.
Deb L
the Little Blackfoot river.
The Little Blackfoot is my husbands current favorite fly fishing river.
Mostly because it's the one we're closest to and he can get there easily
after work and fish for a few hours. We get up near the headwaters
about once a year and camp, but we loaned our tent to David's sister and
it's in Germany now so we rented the cabin for three days and two nights.
Dylan and I went up early Friday morning and got everything unpacked and
went for a hike. We only intended to be gone for two hours or so but I
left my watch behind and we wandered back considerably later than I
intended. David was there, having come up later after getting off work.
We had late night round the campfire, watching the stars.
Saturday morning David went fishing and later reported he'd caught every
brookie and cut throat in the river. He lost one fly but gained a frog,
who attached himself to David's wader and didn't want to leave.
We had been watching a moose in the river that morning so David was
expecting to have some company while he fished. He did see two moose and
maneuvered around them, but the frog was harder to avoid.
This is the river he was fishing two years ago when a bear chased him
into the water. The bear gets bigger every time he tells the story, so
I'm sure the frog will too. <g>
While David was fishing Dylan and I went hiking up the four wheeler trail
behind the cabin. We saw elk and moose and evidence of bears but no
bears in person. We kept hiking when we lost the trail and went to the
top of the mountain where we could look across to the west and see our
own mountain range, the Flint Creek range and beyond that the Sapphire
Mountains and the Garnet range to the north. We found a great lodge
pole, misshapen by mistletoe, and ate our lunch under it in a sea of
blue lupine. This great old tree was perfect for climbing, really
perfect, but I'm not as good a tree climber as I used to be. Come to
think of it I was never great. I fell out of our big cottonwood when I
was five and broke my collar bone. My mother had told me I'd break my
neck someday and when I fell I was so mad that she had been right I hid
from her for half a day before she found me whimpering under the bed with
my growing bruise and lumpy shoulder. This lodge pole was a little like
that cotton wood and maybe I still had my mothers voice in my head
because I fell out of the tree. I didn't break anything this time but I
must have bruised a rib because I'm an interesting shade of yellowish
green today on my right side and it hurts if I breathe deeply.
Dylan, it turns out, is a fearless tree and rock climber in spite of
seeing his old mother fall. Because I'd forgotten my compass and we'd
gotten a little creative with our trail blazing we were temporarily
misplaced for a while and had to back track about a half mile before we
found our trail again. The three hour hike back down to the cabin was
less fun than the hike up had been, but I ate some hot peppers and felt
better and moaned enough that David cooked for us while I lounged by the
campfire. <g> Turns out I can spit a cherry pit cleanly twelve feet to
the back of the head of a smart ass husband. I'm continually amazed by
my own talents.
We waited for the coyotes that night and when we couldn't wait any longer
we howled to get them started. It worked too, and we had a howling
chorus for about twenty minutes. We're easily amused, I guess.
Dylan broke up a fight between two macho pine sawyer beetles. It's
amazing how much power those little buggers have and how tough they are.
He'd carry one away to a different log and it'd fly back to engage in
combat with the other again. Now we'll have to see if we can find out
why they fight, if it's territory or women or just the pine sawyer tough
man competition.
Sunday David left early to get ready for work and Dylan and I stayed to
play a little and investigate a different trail. We're going up there
this week, or on the weekend to hike the Blackfoot meadows trail so maybe
we'll get back for the other, too. I've been up the Blackfoot meadows
trail but Dylan hasn't. It's an eight hour hike if you don't dawdle
climbing trees. I'm not sure about the trail we found and started up
Sunday because I can't find it on the map but that's all the more reason
to see what's at the other end.
Deb L
coyote's corner
Thanks.....I really, really enjoyed this.
Janis
Janis
----- Original Message -----
From: Deborah Lewis
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, July 01, 2003 11:52 AM
Subject: [AlwaysLearning] Falling out of a tree and other fun weekend activities.
We rented a forest service cabin for the weekend, near the headwaters of
the Little Blackfoot river.
The Little Blackfoot is my husbands current favorite fly fishing river.
Mostly because it's the one we're closest to and he can get there easily
after work and fish for a few hours. We get up near the headwaters
about once a year and camp, but we loaned our tent to David's sister and
it's in Germany now so we rented the cabin for three days and two nights.
Dylan and I went up early Friday morning and got everything unpacked and
went for a hike. We only intended to be gone for two hours or so but I
left my watch behind and we wandered back considerably later than I
intended. David was there, having come up later after getting off work.
We had late night round the campfire, watching the stars.
Saturday morning David went fishing and later reported he'd caught every
brookie and cut throat in the river. He lost one fly but gained a frog,
who attached himself to David's wader and didn't want to leave.
We had been watching a moose in the river that morning so David was
expecting to have some company while he fished. He did see two moose and
maneuvered around them, but the frog was harder to avoid.
This is the river he was fishing two years ago when a bear chased him
into the water. The bear gets bigger every time he tells the story, so
I'm sure the frog will too. <g>
While David was fishing Dylan and I went hiking up the four wheeler trail
behind the cabin. We saw elk and moose and evidence of bears but no
bears in person. We kept hiking when we lost the trail and went to the
top of the mountain where we could look across to the west and see our
own mountain range, the Flint Creek range and beyond that the Sapphire
Mountains and the Garnet range to the north. We found a great lodge
pole, misshapen by mistletoe, and ate our lunch under it in a sea of
blue lupine. This great old tree was perfect for climbing, really
perfect, but I'm not as good a tree climber as I used to be. Come to
think of it I was never great. I fell out of our big cottonwood when I
was five and broke my collar bone. My mother had told me I'd break my
neck someday and when I fell I was so mad that she had been right I hid
from her for half a day before she found me whimpering under the bed with
my growing bruise and lumpy shoulder. This lodge pole was a little like
that cotton wood and maybe I still had my mothers voice in my head
because I fell out of the tree. I didn't break anything this time but I
must have bruised a rib because I'm an interesting shade of yellowish
green today on my right side and it hurts if I breathe deeply.
Dylan, it turns out, is a fearless tree and rock climber in spite of
seeing his old mother fall. Because I'd forgotten my compass and we'd
gotten a little creative with our trail blazing we were temporarily
misplaced for a while and had to back track about a half mile before we
found our trail again. The three hour hike back down to the cabin was
less fun than the hike up had been, but I ate some hot peppers and felt
better and moaned enough that David cooked for us while I lounged by the
campfire. <g> Turns out I can spit a cherry pit cleanly twelve feet to
the back of the head of a smart ass husband. I'm continually amazed by
my own talents.
We waited for the coyotes that night and when we couldn't wait any longer
we howled to get them started. It worked too, and we had a howling
chorus for about twenty minutes. We're easily amused, I guess.
Dylan broke up a fight between two macho pine sawyer beetles. It's
amazing how much power those little buggers have and how tough they are.
He'd carry one away to a different log and it'd fly back to engage in
combat with the other again. Now we'll have to see if we can find out
why they fight, if it's territory or women or just the pine sawyer tough
man competition.
Sunday David left early to get ready for work and Dylan and I stayed to
play a little and investigate a different trail. We're going up there
this week, or on the weekend to hike the Blackfoot meadows trail so maybe
we'll get back for the other, too. I've been up the Blackfoot meadows
trail but Dylan hasn't. It's an eight hour hike if you don't dawdle
climbing trees. I'm not sure about the trail we found and started up
Sunday because I can't find it on the map but that's all the more reason
to see what's at the other end.
Deb L
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