Going back a few years

Buzzy

I prefer to call them strike indicators.
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Three years ago this spring, Herb Superb, Keith and I met up for our annual tip to the "Kamloops" area of British Columbia. Sadly, back home, while Keith and Herb were offloading Keith's pram, he tripped on a piece of golf chipping fabric and broke his leg which essentially ended trips like this for him. He was 83 when he broke his leg.

This was how we rolled - three prams (the lightest one is mine on top of the canopy). Every morning we'd roll out from Milehighresort.com and head to one of our favorite lakes. Sometimes the trip in would take two hours and for anyone who has spent much time in that area, two hours is a long time to bounce around in a truck but not necessarily getting you long distance from the starting point. Upon arrival, we'd help each other unload all three prams and then individually get our boat ready to go. This process took, oh, an hour or so........ and at the end of the day we reversed the order and drove home. Keith is now 85, Herb is 80 and I'm the boot at 76. The last few years that we made this journey, we talked about finding a lodge or destination where the home water fished well; we just never made that leap. I guess we're too old to do that anymore.

Getting ready to roll out for the day, Herb Superb checking his gear
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Morgan Lake
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Getting ready to lift
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Calm before the storm, I miss this lake. She was so good to me over the years.
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Same lake, a couple hours later and the bite was on, Herb Superb netting a nice fish
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In the net
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Keith with a "small" trout (I gave up asking him to wear his PFD)
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D Lake trout.
Dairy Lake big fish.JPG

The year before Keith broke his leg, the lake in most of the above pics kicked out trout to about 8 pounds and then it winter killed.
 
Pure treasure, Pat.
 
Great memories and big trout!
 
Great memories for you all. I am sorry I never met up with you guys and fish some of those great lakes. Even the ones that produced small fish were a joy. My wife says I can’t go alone anymore, but I never fish with anybody. I am a grumpy old loner she says without any friends.🤓
 
Three years ago this spring, Herb Superb, Keith and I met up for our annual tip to the "Kamloops" area of British Columbia. Sadly, back home, while Keith and Herb were offloading Keith's pram, he tripped on a piece of golf chipping fabric and broke his leg which essentially ended trips like this for him. He was 83 when he broke his leg.

This was how we rolled - three prams (the lightest one is mine on top of the canopy). Every morning we'd roll out from Milehighresort.com and head to one of our favorite lakes. Sometimes the trip in would take two hours and for anyone who has spent much time in that area, two hours is a long time to bounce around in a truck but not necessarily getting you long distance from the starting point. Upon arrival, we'd help each other unload all three prams and then individually get our boat ready to go. This process took, oh, an hour or so........ and at the end of the day we reversed the order and drove home. Keith is now 85, Herb is 80 and I'm the boot at 76. The last few years that we made this journey, we talked about finding a lodge or destination where the home water fished well; we just never made that leap. I guess we're too old to do that anymore.

Getting ready to roll out for the day, Herb Superb checking his gear
View attachment 183999


Morgan Lake
View attachment 183994

Getting ready to lift
View attachment 183995

Calm before the storm, I miss this lake. She was so good to me over the years.
View attachment 183998

Same lake, a couple hours later and the bite was on, Herb Superb netting a nice fish
View attachment 183996

In the net
View attachment 183997

Keith with a "small" trout (I gave up asking him to wear his PFD)
View attachment 184000

D Lake trout.
View attachment 184003

The year before Keith broke his leg, the lake in most of the above pics kicked out trout to about 8 pounds and then it winter killed.
That looks like a lake that shares a name with a lake in washington - either way too bad it winter killed.
Morgan....boy that brings back some memories.
 
Morgan story: we were driving up to the lake and stopped at another lake just a bit east to check it out. There were two boats on the lake, the closer boat was probably 200 yards from us - there was a guy standing up casting. The other boat was off on the south side, a ways away and had two guys in it. We were talking about how the valley was flooded by a rancher and that's what created the lake(s) (the old road goes right into the lake), and then my buddy says, "hey, where'd the guy in the boat go?". We all looked and our hearts sank. The closer boat was there, but it was empty - no guy standing any more, in fact, no guy at all. That's when we noticed the other boat pulling up anchor and hauling ass toward the closer boat - they must have saw something we didn't see. Then we noticed a body in the water by the closer boat. It wasn't moving. The far boat grabbed the guy and started hauling ass to us - we all waded in to grab the guy and pulled him up on shore (luckily we had service and were able to be on the phone w/ 911 - they were on the way). But....we were a ways up in the hills and not near a town, so 40 minutes of CPR later the ambulance showed up. They spent 5 minutes on him and declared him a goner.

The other boat went out and grabbed his boat and brought it back to shore. I remember seeing his fly box - it was a really cool custom built wood box with a brass plate and his name inscribed. That name is etched in my memory forever.

Turns out 40 minutes of CPR is exhausting - mentally and physically. We were just plain spent. After the ambulance took off, we got back in the truck and went off to Morgan. The mood was down, real somber. We toasted the guys life (not knowing anything about him), but figured at least he died doing what he loved. Early bed time, we were just exhausted. Felt like the next day at Morgan was going to be cursed.

But as things would shake out, the next morning we woke up to blue skies and decent temps.
It took us very little time to get into fish. And the rest of the day ended up being the most fun I've ever had stillwater fly fishing. There were three of us, all doing the double rod thing. I think we had 5 or 6 times were all 3 of us had 2 fish on. It was chaos, but fun chaos.
No huge fish, just a beautiful blue sky spring day with non-stop two rod action. Even dries were producing.

I've been back a few times since, but it's never been even close to the same.

I found the guys obituary when we got back home. Apparently he had fished that lake every day from ice off to ice on. For some reason that made me feel better about the whole thing, that he died doing what he loved.
 
Morgan story: we were driving up to the lake and stopped at another lake just a bit east to check it out. There were two boats on the lake, the closer boat was probably 200 yards from us - there was a guy standing up casting. The other boat was off on the south side, a ways away and had two guys in it. We were talking about how the valley was flooded by a rancher and that's what created the lake(s) (the old road goes right into the lake), and then my buddy says, "hey, where'd the guy in the boat go?". We all looked and our hearts sank. The closer boat was there, but it was empty - no guy standing any more, in fact, no guy at all. That's when we noticed the other boat pulling up anchor and hauling ass toward the closer boat - they must have saw something we didn't see. Then we noticed a body in the water by the closer boat. It wasn't moving. The far boat grabbed the guy and started hauling ass to us - we all waded in to grab the guy and pulled him up on shore (luckily we had service and were able to be on the phone w/ 911 - they were on the way). But....we were a ways up in the hills and not near a town, so 40 minutes of CPR later the ambulance showed up. They spent 5 minutes on him and declared him a goner.

The other boat went out and grabbed his boat and brought it back to shore. I remember seeing his fly box - it was a really cool custom built wood box with a brass plate and his name inscribed. That name is etched in my memory forever.

Turns out 40 minutes of CPR is exhausting - mentally and physically. We were just plain spent. After the ambulance took off, we got back in the truck and went off to Morgan. The mood was down, real somber. We toasted the guys life (not knowing anything about him), but figured at least he died doing what he loved. Early bed time, we were just exhausted. Felt like the next day at Morgan was going to be cursed.

But as things would shake out, the next morning we woke up to blue skies and decent temps.
It took us very little time to get into fish. And the rest of the day ended up being the most fun I've ever had stillwater fly fishing. There were three of us, all doing the double rod thing. I think we had 5 or 6 times were all 3 of us had 2 fish on. It was chaos, but fun chaos.
No huge fish, just a beautiful blue sky spring day with non-stop two rod action. Even dries were producing.

I've been back a few times since, but it's never been even close to the same.

I found the guys obituary when we got back home. Apparently he had fished that lake every day from ice off to ice on. For some reason that made me feel better about the whole thing, that he died doing what he loved.
Six Mile Pat Lake
 
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