Falls Well That Ends Well

                                               August to November 2012

Well, it was a rough end of the summer and fall this year. I had that fall in August and had the collapsed lung. That hurt but about two weeks after that, I started getting neck and upper back pains that got worse and worse. It was made worse by having to deal with selling the Green River house and moving to an apartment in Rock Springs. Then a drive to Denver and back for a wedding really made things worse. I went back to the Emergency Room and had to have Chris cover my week in Rock Springs. I saw Bob Hood and he said I probably had aggravated my old neck injury and suggested facet injections. Edgar Goldsten did those and boy did that help. It turns out I discovered that the hardware from my previous surgery was loose and now needs to come out. That is scheduled for December 14th. In January, Chris will quit working in Rock Springs so it is back to full time work for me. I am hoping I can find someone to cover me from time to time so I can get time off. I made a trip to Houston to see my 95 year old aunt, Lib. That could have gone better! I saw my old friends, Lindy and Larry Neuhaus. We just finished celebrating Thanksgiving. Jamie was here from LA. We participated in a Turkey Trot race on Thanksgiving day. It included me, Diane, Jamie, Sam, Sam's girlfriend, Kate and Kate's Dad, Bob. We had a wonderful dinner that afternoon and watched our quota of football. The next day we went to see the movie, Lincoln and we were all moved by it. Riley stayed in LA this time but will be home for Christmas. We survived another one!

                                                MAN UP MACKIN

It was early Saturday morning. Diane suggested we go for a hike up to the waterfall in Bell's Canyon. It was a good idea. We got off early and breezed along the trail, past the bridge at 1.4 miles and then hit the steep uphill climb a short time later. We were in the boulders and breathing hard. It seem sometimes as if the trail will never end. We got to the section where the trail crosses the stream and we knew we were close. Another quarter mile and we were at the waterfall. There is something special about having a beautiful feature there to reward you for the uphill climb. We rested for a bit and then headed down. Why it always seems so long to get down, I will never know. We worked our way downhill over the boulders and stumps and were now getting to a flatter part. One would think that we were now safe from any slip and or fall. Wrong! Somehow, I got my feet tangled and two things did not happen. I usually can just skip along and regain my balance. This did not happen. In the past, I have gone down and I would just sort of tuck and roll and pop back up. This did not happen either. I pretty much just went splat and landed chest first on some hard rocks(no soft rocks around). I felt stunned. More confused that hurt, although it did hurt. Someone gave me a hand up and I was on my feet. Diane asked if I was all right and I thought I was. I knew I would have hurt for a few days. We finished the hike. I was a little more short of breath than usual on the little uphill portion that we had to get past. We went home and I got out an ice pack. We were home around 10 am and I just hung out the rest of the day. Sam and Kate came over. After they left, I told Diane that I was getting some subcutaneous air that was spreading up my chest to my neck. We went to the free standing ER and the x-ray showed some broken ribs and a completely collapsed lung. My sat on admission on room air was 86%. I was transported to St. Mark's ICU where I met a hospitalist named Julia Whitaker. She numbed me up and put in a chest tube to re-expand my lung. I was in the hospital until Monday afternoon. I was pretty bored and spend most of my time walking around the ward and going up and down the stairs. It was good to get the chest tube out and go home and sleep in my own bed. I took pain pills for one more day and then relied on ibuprofen and acetaminophen. The morale of the story. Watch your step. Which I did today as Diane and I hiked back up the canyon, although just to the bridge. Eight days after getting out of the hospital, I got back on trail. And did not fall!

                                    Seaman’s Log

This is our account of our sailing trip to The British Virgin Islands. My friends, Dick and Craig were on a four month trip and we would join them for 8 days.  

Diane and I took a flight from Salt Lake City that left at 11:55 PM to New York, JFK. Despite Diane’s worry about an overnight flight, we had a smooth and restful flight. It was aided by just the right amounts of meclizine and ambien. Better living through chemistry, you might say. We had some breakfast and some really fantastic coffee at JFK. Our second leg would be a long flight to St. Thomas. Although we were on the standby list for an upgrade, we found ourselves back in the economy cabin. However, on this 757, we were on row 19 which happened to be a bulkhead row and gave us leg room as if we were members of the one per cent. Without the other amenities, I might add.

We arrived in St. Thomas about 1:30 PM(Atlantic Time which is one zone east of the Eastern Time zone). The airport was crowded with mostly sun burned tourists who were trying to get a few last drinks in before they headed home. We took a taxi to the Ferry Building and went to the  Petite Pump Room restaurant located above the  ferry. As we sat overlooking the water, Diane could not believe how blue the water was. The ferry ride took us about an hour to get to Road Town, Tortola, BVI. It took us about an hour to clear customs. I wasn’t sure they were even going to let us in. I had lost one the forms we had to fill out. The not so sweet old lady decided that we were the ones she was going to hassle that day. Diane finally asked if we could get another form. Welcome to Tortola, have a nice day, mon.

We took a taxi to our hotel, Maria’s By the Sea. We could have walked, it was so close. We checked in and found that Dick had left a phone number for us. I tried calling it but could never reach him. We got settled and I decided to do a walk-a-bout. This worried Diane because it was dark and I tend to get lost a lot. I explored Road Town and was looking for a place to buy some food to take back to the hotel. I saw this food truck with some people milling about and noticed two older men with white hair. Everyone else I had seen was black. I can’t believe that I just happened to run into Dick and Craig. They were ordering from the food truck, called It Bang Good. Well, it was. We ordered up some ribs and barbeque chicken and headed back to the hotel. Diane was on lookout duty from the balcony and spotted us a block away. Our first dinner on the island was outstanding, or “It Bang Good”.

The next morning, Sunday, we ate breakfast at the hotel with a view of the sea. Dick and Craig came by and borrowed the shower(thank goodness). We set out to get provisioned from the grocery store and then loaded up the dinghy and went out to the Panacea, our home for the next 8 days. The Panacea is a 37 foot monohull boat made by Beteneau. It has two cabins and a nice salon and a head with a shower. There is also a shower off the back of the boat. The galley is roomy enough with a double sink, two burners, a refrigerator and a freezer. All the comforts of home, almost. Dick gave up his cabin for us and would sleep in the salon. The cabin was wide enough but for head room, it was like being in a cave or MRI scanner. You did not want to sit up suddenly. After getting settled, we got underway. We did a combination of sailing and motoring depending on the wind conditions and the seas. We headed towards Jost van Dyke to look for a mooring spot on Diamond Cay. There were none so we sailed back to Cane Garden Bay where we picked up a ball. We took the dinghy to shore for a walk on the beach and some refreshments. We had dinner on the boat that night. We had hot dogs, chili, salad and Doritos. Why does food taste better when you are on the ocean? Soon, it was bedtime.

We awoke on Monday feeling refreshed. We went to shore for more provisions and took a walk to the Caldwood Rum Distillery. It was closed so we could not take a tour. We set sail again for Diamond Cay but the seas were too rough to take an anchorage there so we went to White Bay. This was on Jost van Dyke. We found a mooring ball there and I took a snorkel swim over to the reef to see the fish. I spotted a barracuda and a tarpon as well as hundreds of brightly colored fish. We took the dinghy into the white sandy beach and hung out there for awhile. When we got back on the boat we tried out the grill and had some nice steaks along with a salad.

Tuesday morning, the galley slave, Diane made an egg scramble for breakfast and then we sailed to Marina Cay. We grabbed a ball and went to shore to use the internet and browsed around Pusser’s Store. That night we were entertained by Eric Stone, a singer of pirate songs and ballads. Diane took a chance and ordered a Painkiller, virgin of course. It was then onto the restaurant for a real meal. I had the coconut encrusted mahi mahi and Diane had Caribbean Curry. We were really roughing it now. That night it was windy and the boat was rolling a lot.

On Wednesday the seas were still rough and the wind was howling. We cancelled our plans to sail to Monkey Point for snorkeling and did a layover day at Marina. Later in the morning we took the ferry over to Trellis Bay and stopped for coffee at “D” Best Coffee. We went into the shops and watched as people set up for the Full Moon Party which is supposed to be a drunken orgy but we would be gone before that. We found a restaurant called the Mongoose for lunch. Diane had this dish called a Roti which is like a burrito with curry and spiced  chicken and vegetables inside. Quite good. We ferried back to Marina and then onto the Panacea. Tacos for dinner that night.

On Thursday, the winds were still a bit high so we motored over to Great Dog Island for some snorkeling. Diane and I got out and had a good outing but some one came and said we could not hook up to the mooring balls there. We headed out to Virgin Gorda. Columbus saw the island first and named it because it looked like a fat woman. We motored over to Leverick Bay and got on a ball. We went in for the Michael Bean Show that coincided with Happy Arrrrr. This was a one man pirate band. He was dressed up as a pirate, told pirate jokes and riddles, and had a lot of audience participation. He played a guitar, a harmonica, and he stomped his feet on plastic beer cartons for the drums. I guess he is pretty famous around these parts. Back on the boat that night Diane whipped up some roasted garlic fettuccini with marinara meat sauce and a salad. Still roughing it.

We left Leverick Bay on Friday and had good winds for putting the sails up. We went to the Baths and went to shore and left the dinghy at the dinghy dock  which is just a rope with buoys on it 75 feet from the shore. From there we swam to shore and took a hike on Devils Bay hiking trail. It reminded me somewhat of the Subway as we were in and out of the water and up  and down over boulders and it was cave like. When we came out of the caves, we found ourselves at another beautiful, white, sandy beach.. We reversed that route to get back to our starting point. Getting back into the dinghy was a bit of a challenge but we all accomplished it. We left no sailors behind, sir! We sailed over to Cooper Island and moored at Manchioneel Bay. Saturday, we set out to find the wreck of The Rhone. Diane and I went into the water looking for it and then Dick started waving to us. We  found  this sunken ship and marveled  at it. It was a British ship that sunk in a hurricane in 1867. It is very popular with scuba divers although we got a very good look at it. Dick even found some booty. He found an underwater flashlight near it. From there, we sailed to Norman Island where we parked the boat at The Bight and took the dinghy over to snorkel The Caves. This was a neat area where underwater caves had formed and you could go in as deeply as you dared. That night we had dinner at The Pirates Bight Restaurant on shore.

Sunday would be our last day on the Panacea. We sailed a short distance to The Indians, another snorkel site where I got to see a turtle and hang around with him for awhile. He was funny looking but I guess he thought the same of me. We  sailed on to Soper’s Hole, a marina about which there are many sailing songs. We had lunch there and then sailed to Road Town. It  was a long sail with rough seas and many tacks. We moored the Panacea in the bay in front of Maria’s by the Sea and took the dinghy in with all our gear and walked to the hotel. We said goodbye to Dick and Craig and took a real shower. The adventure was over but the memories will remain. The pictures, too!

Tom Mackin

                                                Tom Mackin

Hi, I am Tom’s brother, Jim. This past fall, Tom asked me if I would speak at his Memorial. More frightening to me than actually having to do it was the realization that Tom’s time here was becoming short. It did not mean that Tom was ready to give up the courageous fight he had waged for over six years. Tom never gave up at anything. In fact, he was even more determined to soldier on.  He said,

            “Now that I have crossed 59 years of age, I am determined to stretch it out and reach the big 6-0.  After that, all bets will be off. Maybe they are now and I don’t know it. OK by me as I still live one breath, one moment and one day at a time.”

My purpose today is to honor Tom’s wishes and beautify the connection that each of you had with Tom.

After I accepted Tom’s request to talk today, he had two things to say to me about it.  Well, he actually had more than two things but just two things at this time. First, he wanted me to wear the Sport Coat he saw me wear when I had a meeting in downtown Seattle last summer. He thought ya’ll(that’s the way Tom and I used to talk in Texas) would be impressed.  Number one is done!  Secondly, he asked me to try and remember his favorite motto, which is: “I am perfectly happy to be imperfect. I choose humanness and heart centeredness. “  Now, if you believed that Tom had only one favorite motto, then you didn’t know Tom Mackin. More will come up later.

I am five years older than Tom. We grew up in Beaumont, Texas with our two other brothers and three sisters. Tom excelled in all sports in high school and in our backyard where he learned to be fiercely competitive even against bigger and stronger kids. After high school, Tom attended college at the University of Houston. While Tom was still in college he drove to Corpus Christi to help Diane and me pack up and move back to Utah. Tom had put on a few pounds after his athletic high school days. In short, he was kind of fat. I had joined the running craze and I suggested to Tom that we do an out and back run. As we neared the turn around point, I told Tom to turn around and head back and that I would catch up with him. Now, what do you think Tom did with that? When I turned around, Tom was nearly out of sight. He was determined that I would not catch up to him. Being a Mackin, I was determined that I would. I ran as fast as I could, closing ground on him. I knew my only chance was to get close and then sprint at the end. It worked.  I blew by him and nipped him at the finish. What a puzzled look he had on his face. That would be the last time I ever beat Tom Mackin in a footrace. From there he took up running and became an elite marathoner.

Tom finished his education at The University of Houston and moved to Seattle where he began his career as a psychotherapist, married Ruth and started a family. Tom and Ruth welcomed two daughters into their family—Julie and Laura.  Now Tom found himself living with three females where he was often outvoted but never outmaneuvered.

My daughter, Jamie shared a special connection with Tom as they happily shared the same birthday and unhappily shared the same affliction of kidney stones. They would celebrate or commiserate, depending on which event was going on.

After Tom was diagnosed, he never slowed down. His disease really didn’t know what it was up against.  On a visit last summer, I had just barely arrived and we headed out the door with the golf clubs. I was going to caddy for him at the Par 3 course. I had my video camera with me and got a chance to capture that perfect golf swing that never abandoned him. After golf, we went to the soccer field, the one with the artificial turf. We played a few games of Bocce Ball. After that, we were walking to the car and he asked what I wanted to do next. I was worried that he had a one on one game of hoops in mind.  How about we rest a bit? I was tired.  

Tom accepted several mentors into his life starting with Dan Millman and his Way of the Peaceful Warrior. It was then on to Alan Watts and Eckhart Tolle and others. They all presented the same theme—The Present Moment—The Now. I found a picture of a clock with all the numbers replaced by the word, “Now”.  I sent it to Tom and he was delighted. His fascination with “The Now” was manifested by what Tom’s answer would be if you asked him about a current book he was reading, movie he had just seen, or even a round of golf. It was always the best, the greatest. I always wondered how that could be until I realized that he was in the Now, the Present Moment.

A book I read last year and then mailed to Tom was Unbroken. For the last six years that word epitomizes what was going on in the Mackin House. It was not only Tom’s spirit to fight on but also the devotion of Ruth, Julie and Laura that showed that they too had unbroken spirits. They may have bent, but they did not break. For this, they all, Tom, Ruth, Julie, and Laura have my utmost admiration and love.

For Tom, gratitude was an important part of his life. He considered himself a lucky man. Here is something he wrote to me:

“Staying in the game this long has allowed me to have many deep and meaningful talks with all three girls. None of us should have any regret there.”

He goes on to say: “The most essential of the essentials of my life has been my family and my deep devotion to Ruth, Julie and Laura. You know that.”

Finally, I would like to mention meditation. For Tom, meditation was his sword; the source of his courage and strength. At one point Tom told me that he wanted the Memorial to be like a meditation. I have been wondering what Tom would say to me right now if he could. I think he would say, “Right now you are feeling the sorrow of me leaving. Underneath that sorrow is the joy of our memories together. As the sorrow slowly slips away, the joy will emerge. Live simply and joyfully”

What I have learned most from Tom was how to view the world. He taught me to view it with joy, gratitude, compassion, and loving kindness. It is the best lesson I have ever received.

I am going to tell you two ways to continue to connect with Tom.  First, hold on to the memories. Don’t let them fade. Tell people about Tom. Talk about Tom. This will bring you joy. Remember him. I will always remember his facial expression when you tell him a joke he likes. He rolls his head and says, “That’s Funny”.  Secondly, Visit Tom. I know where he is. He is in that space between thoughts. He has always been there and he still is. Go see him. I know I will.

Fall Fishing in Yellowstone National Park

Thank you, Teddy Roosevelt. You knew the value of a national park system and without your endeavors we could not have fished this Fall in Yellowstone National Park. Dick Weber and I left Salt Lake City on Tuesday October 4, 2011. We stayed in West Yellowstone, MT at the Dude Motel. Best price in town. There is a reason for that. We checked in and walked to Bullwinkle's Restaurant. The weather the previous week had been perfect. We had hoped for a repeat. That did not happen. It was cold, cloudy and rain was on the way. The next morning we ate breakfast at Ernie's and went by Blue Ribbon Flies and picked up our Park Licenses and a few flies. I got some Lime Trudes that were recommended by my friend, Dick Hauch. We were set. We drove into the Park. Dick and I argued over who would get to show their lifetime Golden Eagle National Park Pass. Dick won this time. A friendly rangerette greeted us and wished us luck in our fishing. We drove to Tower where there is a waterfall and a trail down to the Yellowstone River. We geared up, fishing gear, water, rain gear and bear spray. Yes, we were in bear country! We made our way down the trail and I walked over to the river I could see a few beautiful back eddies that looked like great holding water. I had already tied on my lime trude with a midge emerger dropper. I looked at the seam of the eddy and casted right along it. Bam, a Cut rose and took the trude. I could not believe it. First cast. I netted him, released him and casted again. Another! Cast again, this time the emerger enticed the take. I was in fishing heaven. Then, as quickly as it turned on, it turned off. Cast after cast produced nothing. It was time to move up stream. We hiked over a bluff and down to the river where a cove had formed and tried that for awhile. No luck there so we moved on. We found a beautiful stretch of river and went to work. Work it was. We could not tempt the fish. We knew they had to be there so we kept changing flies. We tried hoppers, foam stone flies, attractors, my lime trude, blue wing olives. We put nymphs on as droppers. There were not many bugs on the water, just a few blue wings and some midges. We tried zebras, pheasant tails, midge emergers, and my rainbow warrior. We started picking up occasional fish. We walked further upstream and found a place where where several back eddies formed a confluence of currents. I seemed to think that the fish were holding there. I caught one on a parachute adams and then I tied on a nymph that I wasn't sure what it was. It was next to my sow bugs so I thought it might be a type of sow bug. It was about a 20 and was flat with a shiny back. It kind of looked like a Ray Charles but had that green shiny back. Well, what ever it was, the Cuts really liked it. I started pulling in fish after fish. I was back in fish heaven. Dick started picking up fish as well.  It was starting to get late so we headed back. Dick wanted to stop where we had lunch to try his luck with a blue wing. It worked. I wanted to try my first spot and when I got there I found the eddies and caught three fish. One was actually a rainbow. Now we had the  half mile, uphill hike back to the car. It was cold and raining but it did not matter. We had a great day on the Yellowstone. We took off our boots and peeled off our waders and headed for Cooke City where we had reservations at the Super 8. We checked in and chatted with Danny, the clerk who was a fountain of misinformation. We ignored his advice and decided to eat at the Soda Butte Saloon. After an Elk Burger for me and a Buffalo Burger for Dick we head went back to the motel for a complementary chocolate chip cookie and then to bed.

We awoke the next morning anticipating another great day of fishing; not getting skunked and me being plagued by a toothache. That pretty much sums up the day but I will provide details. Our plan was to fish the Lamar River and Soda Butte Creek. We drove past the Slough Creek turnoff and found a place to walk to the river. We found a section with a lot of riffles and started fishing. I went upriver and Dick went downriver. I found a section with some fast water that took a long cast to reach. I had a hopper on and a very large cutthroat went for my fly but I did not hook him. I was encouraged, however and fished that spot hard for the next 30 minutes to no avail. Without any further action there we left for another location. This was a spot with a lot of boulders and runs. We got shutout there. It was time to try Soda Butte. Long story, short--no fish. We decided to drive up the gravel road to the Slough Creek Campground and fish there. At this point my tooth was really starting to hurt so I called Painless Pete, my dentist. He did not have good news when I told him about my tooth. I needed antibiotics. Well, first I needed a pharmacy. It turns out that Cooke City did not have one. The closest one was in the opposite direction, Gardner, MT. Pete called it in and we drove to Gardner to try and get there before they closed. We had to go past Mammoth, out of the Park and about five more miles. I picked up the Keflex and took some. Why didn't my tooth feel better?  Actually, the ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and aspirin did take the edge off. We had dinner in Gardner and then drove back to our motel in Cooke City.

The next day, Friday was our day to fish Slough Creek. We had hoped it would be our best day fishing. It would be our most strenuous day, for sure. We got up, had breakfast and got "most" of our stuff together. It was a 50 minute drive to the Slough Creek campground. It was cold, snowing and overcast. We had hoped for an early start. It would have been ideal to start on the trail between 8-9 AM.  We almost made it, arriving about 9:30 AM. I got my winter clothes on with my waders and boots and looked at Dick who was frantically going through stuff in the car. A few choice words were coming out of his mouth. "What's up, Dick?", I asked. "I think I left my %@$#ing boots at the motel." Well, I assumed that would be a deal breaker. So much for an early start. I suggested that we fish the upper part of Soda Butte that we had yet to be humiliated on. At any rate, we had to go back to the motel because all he had were his loafers. We headed back and he started making a case for still doing the hike into Slough Creek. He said if we could get back to the trailhead by 11, we could still get some fishing in. Well, we made it back by 11:30 and he still wanted to go. It was a 6 mile hike in. We would be backing in our fishing gear and we would be walking in our waders and wading boots and parkas. Yes, it was snowing. I kept picturing something not being optimal about this. Then I pictured something unwanted happening. It could be anything, bear encounter, wolf problem, injury, weather turning bad, being stranded, etc. To cut the suspense, none of that happened. What happened may have been worse. We left the trailhead and immediately the trail starts to climb, and climb, and climb. This was the worst part, said Dick. I believed him. I got pretty short of breath but kept on. Thankfully, it did flatten out for awhile before we climbed some more. When we hit the two mile mark, I could hardly believe that we still had four more to go. The scenery got beautiful. The first meadow was gorgeous. I asked why we don't fish there. Dick said we would do better at the second meadow. When we came down the ridge to the second meadow, my spirits were lifted. We still had a half a mile to go to get to the creek but there was liveliness in my step now. We got to the creek and saw that one of the campsites was occupied, by a buffalo. We were pretty hungry  so we had lunch before we started to fish. It had taken us 1 hour and 52 minutes to go the 6 miles. We examined the water and we each took off for a spot that looked promising. OK, another long story sort of short. No fish. Here''s my story. The water was very low and the riffles we expected to be holding fish we clogged with algae. There were no bugs hatching but we tried some dry flies anyway. Then we tried dry-dropper combinations. I even set up a nymphing rig with two flies. That was my algae collector. We fished until the drop dead time that would get us back before dark. We trudged on back. Now our boots were collecting mud and had doubled in weight. We saw some bear footprints on the trail on the way back. We made it back in one hour and 57 minutes. We were tired, blistered, hungry, and skunked. It was back to Cooke City and the Ore House Saloon for some dinner.

On Saturday, we would be heading home. The weather was better than on the day before so we were hopeful that we could go through the Park to get to West Yellowstone. We stopped an "Stop the Car" store and I picked up some cute mittens for Diane. When we got to the Park Entrance, I asked the rangerette if we could get to West. She said, "Sure, you just go up to Mammoth...". That was the long way we were hoping to avoid. That was would give us a 10-11 hour drive. We made good time through the Park and went past Mammoth, Gardner and into Livingston, MT. From there we went past Bozeman and then to West Yellowstone. We had lunch at Ernie's and then Dick took over the driving for awhile. We pulled into my house about 6 PM. The trips had it's ups and downs but it will occupy a prominent place in the good memory bank of my brain. Except for the toothache.

PS: Root canal scheduled for Monday October 17. That is if I survive the pain this week while working in Wyoming.

Little Cottonwood Creek

I have found a wonderful spot to fish on Little Cottonwood Creek. It takes 8 minutes to drive to and 5 minutes to walk to after that and I am fishing. So far I have caught Brookies and Rainbows. Yesterday I picked up four Rainbows. The fish are crafty. It took me an hour and a half to bring these guys in. I was surprised that a couple of them went 10 and 11 inches. Nice size for a small creek like this. The fish don't hold in the fast water but prefer pools and back eddies. I had to wade in the water to prevent my backcast from landing in a tree. When I catch a fish, I always move on. It is one hole, one fish territory. I had success with attractors; stimulators, royal wulff and trude, and parachute adams. I know there must be some bigger fish lurking in the fast water but so far have not been able to bring one up out of there. Here is a shot of one of the Brookies.

Where did Summer Go?

Wow! Where did the summer go? I had so many things I was going to do this summer and now it looks like Autumn is beginning. Did I go to Zion? No. Did I go fish Slough Creek in Yellowstone? No. Did I fish the Owyhee River in Idaho? Not Yet! So, there are still some excursions that I may get in before the snow flies.

Two weeks ago, Dick Hauch and I went to Idaho to fish the Salt and South Fork of the Snake Rivers. We stayed with Hasty and Grace Arnold in Irwin, Idaho in their beautiful home on the banks of the Snake River below Palisades. Dick and I were interns together at L.A. County-USC Medical Center in 1973. We try and get together to fly fish at least once a year. This time we fished our first day on the Salt River above Palisades with our guide, Travis Taylor. His father, Bart has been a fishing guide in the area for over 30 years. We had a great day fishing on the Salt and the next day we fished the South Fork from Conant to Byington, 9 am to 9 pm on the river. It had rained the night before which put a damper on the really hot fishing, but we caught fish nonetheless. We just had to work harder. The two main flies we used were a Chubby Chernobyl that imitated a large stone fly or grass hopper. Behind this we trailed a Hemingway, a size 16 caddis imitation that we fished wet or dry. We tried other flies but we always seemed to come back to this combination. On our last day, we bid goodbye to our wonderful hosts and stopped at the Grey's River to fish in the morning before we drove back to Salt Lake. I put Dick on a plane and that marked the time to officially start planning our next year's trip.

Riley in coming for a visit this week and after that Diane and I are headed to Mesa Verde and Hoovenweep for a few days. I will report on that after that. Or, I could just make up some shit now. Nah, I'll wait.