“There are some really nice pools further upstream.”
A lizard scrambles across the tracks, ducking under the inside edge of a rail. He is short-tailed, a chubby little guy, huffing and puffing as though out of breath but clearly more alarmed by the gargantuan shadows now being cast over him. We will leave him to his grasshopper feast – there are plenty to go around. Having right of access, or at least tacit authorization via thoroughfare barter, is but a stepping stone before the threshold leading into wonderland. Wild hops line the path, and the willows, now peppered in pollen, are taller than we remembered during previous visits. Bush-whacking is required to reach the water. The companions turn for home even earlier than expected, but leave an ominous declaration behind: “Make sure to bring back some dinner.” We’ve promised pan-seared trout, and are prepared to take two in suffice. A few hours into this charade we have but two-inches of fish to show for it.