Gone Fishin

I woke up Saturday morning with one thought: fishing. Although I haven't been in years I really love to do it and it was such a beautiful day. I talked my dad into handing over his coveted khaki fishing vest with pockets brimming with such delicacies as dry flies, lures, bobbles and swiss army knives. He taught me how to tie a fly on a piece of rope (because its easier to see that way) and grabbed me some fishing poles. "Hey, I recognize this reel..its yours! This is the nice one....nice" I squealed. I pulled on my baseball shirt, grabbed a sweatshirt, two fleece jackets, two pairs of socks (one wool), gloves, a hat and my old hiking shoes - I like to be prepared. I picked up my friend Tara (see above picture) in her rain boots and some lawn chairs and we headed over to Mike's (also in the above picture). While Mike was grabbing his fleece and another coat I made a sign that said 'Gone Fishin' to put on his door. We piled into Mike's rugged Subaru and took off as I complained about having to leave the brightly colored wooden dingy in the driveway behind.

Next stop: Macey's for some fishing license's. 10 min. later with my wallet $8 lighter I held an authorized day fishing license from the state of Utah. Mike got one as well and Tara got a baguette, salami, provolone, Twizzlers and Vitamin Water (it has electrolytes) and we took off without a second glance. We headed straight for Pleasant Grove while stuffing our bread full of meat and cheese laughing about old stories and remarking about the lovely weather. We hit American Fork Canyon and it was like we had found another planet. Folded mountains, rushing water, sparkling trees; a dream come true. Suddenly around the corner we came upon the most beautiful green lake surrounded by majestic mountains (also in the photo above). From here we turned away from civilization and headed up a long, bumpy dirt road with switchbacks climbing higher and higher in altitude.

Suddenly inspiration hit and Tara plugged in her ipod which began to pour forth the triumphant sounds of Last of the Mohicans as we crested the last hill. We felt as though we had just conquered something really big as Tara searched the horizon for Indians on the attack. No Indians dared show their faces as we drove around the sad remains of a once great lake. The drought had rendered Silver Lake into a large dusty bowl with a small pool of water. My childhood stomping grounds were nothing but dust clouds swirling around pebbles. I could picture this lake as what it used to be; large, dark and full of hungry trout. I used to stand on the shore with my fishing pole and sing my fish song that I had learned from Bert and Ernie on Sesame Street; "Here fishy-fishy.....here fishy, fishy". I always caught a fish then, this time I would leave empty handed. The fish ignored our lures and I was too tired of tying flies after losing the first one to a faulty line to try more.

We alternated the two poles between the three of us as we soaked up the sun and laughed at our bad casts and one in particular of mine that ended with half my pole in the lake (don't worry, I reeled it back in). The sun suddenly disappeared behind the mountains and our breath appeared white against the scenery. We packed ourselves up and drove our empty hands back down the mountain to the same triumphant soundtrack. The sun dipped lower and lower along with our altitude until we found ourselves once again in Pleasant Grove at the Purple Turtle for dinner. We ordered cheeseburgers, onion rings, grilled cheese and 'Tornado" shakes. I used to save the gum from the bubble gum Tornado I always got on a napkin in the back of the caravan much to my mothers chagrin.

It was the perfect day and a great start to my goal of 'Revisiting Utah' this year. Thanks for an amazing day Tara and Mike.....just amazing.