First off, want to throw a big Thank you out to Momma-Churchy for the great Wild Rice! Nothing like a taste of home to remind me how great the north land is.
After a short hike stepping off path, we found ourselves walking a tiny meadow stream. Two miles from the top, and not an angler in sight we stopped,and got ready.
Tied on some size #12 dries with tiny tippets.
This particular stream was high atop the Mogollon plateau, ranging somewhere in the neighborhood of 9000 feet. A world apart from the crashing waters and stone-cliff- banks of the northern shore, where seasons are fleeting and cold winters roof in our finny-friends. Not far east from where Dr. C calls home, is the stomping grounds of Hemingway and his beloved brookie-streams. 'The Rim' as this area is known to the locals, is home to old growth Juniper pines with a smattering of Aspen, we couldn't have been further away from lime-stone creeks of home.
Kneeling and crawling is the name of the game on this small sliver in high country Arizona. Lee showed his experience, by staying low and keeping his profile hidden amongst the stream side riparian vegetation. The water was a bit more spring-creek-like than back home on the North Shore. But slow, clear waters didn't stop Lee from putting his first numbers of the day on the board.
The rewards maybe small, but beautiful all the same. In the desert, the fact that trout can naturally exist, reproduce, and thrive is amazing all by itself.
It's hard to belive how lush and wet the desert can be.
Stop three on our mini-trip to come. Hasta.