We started out early and took the hour drive to Camp Little Lemhi. It was a beautiful morning and the drive down into Swan Valley and out to the camp was spectacular. Idaho is in its full Spring-green colors, the mountains were various shades of purple and the blue sky was painted with white clouds. It was stunningly beautiful.
While Mark took care of his camp business I grabbed my fly rod and conducted a little business of my own. I consider it my responsibility to survey and evaluate the aquatic life of each of the camps. I fished off the dock on the south side of the lake and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings as much as the fishing. The lake was very quire with very few fish rising. Across the lake the waterfront staff was practicing their lifesaving skills and that was fun to watch while I waited for a strike. I started with a mosquito fly but after several casts and not even a bump I switched to a pre-emergent stone fly pattern and was casting into deep water and letting the fly sink for about twenty seconds before doing a very slow retrieval. My luck on this particular lake has never been very good so after some time with no action at all I decided to call it quits and bring in my line. Right at that moment I got a strong strike and had a fish on. I played it to the shore of the lake and landed a nice rainbow.
After releasing the fish I went back to the camp lodge and found that Mark was ready to go. We drove over the Palisades dam, down through Swan Valley, up over Pine Creek Pass, down to the quiet town of Victor, through beautiful Teton Valley, into Driggs, and up the Teton Valley to Treasure Mountain. It’s one of my favorite drives and the scenery is spectacular. We arrived at Treasure Mountain right as they were serving lunch—and oh what a lunch. The cook had made her special lasagna, homemade bread sticks, and our choice of cheese cake or frosted brownies. She had saved a special brownie with double frosting for me. (She knows who signs the paychecks.) The food was plentiful and delicious.
After lunch Mark and I taught the staff a session on staff health and safety, facilitated the Youth Protection Quiz Show game Mark developed, and then held a discussion on staff policies. After that we filled my trailer with empty milk crates and filled the truck with the Jamboree tents. Then it was off to Island Park and points north. We drove down the canyon to Alta, MT, north on highway 33 though Tetonia with the Teton Range dominating the view on our right. We turned north on highway 32 and followed it to Ashton. The drive from Driggs to Ashton through the green grain fields is amazing. In Ashton we got on highway 20 and followed it north in to Island Park and out to the Scout camp by the same name. With a little serendipity we arrived just as the staff was eating dinner. This meal was a little more Scout campish; beanie-weenies and hash browns.
After dinner we gave the Island Park staff the same presentations we did at Treasure Mountain. After we were through teaching Mark needed some time with the business manager and trading post manager. Erick the camp director and Chris the ranger took me on a tour of the changes they are making to the camp. They are improving the road to the campsites and have remodeled the handicraft building into a camp office and medical station. The old camp office will become the camp director’s cabin after they clean up the mess the packrats made during the winter. (Gross!)
Once their tour was over I grabbed my rod and hit the lake (since Mark was still in his meetings). I tied on an elk-hair caddis fly and waded out into the lake at the inlet of the creek. I got a couple of strikes before a big thunder storm rolled in and it became unwise to be standing in a lake holding a graphite lightning rod. I’m sure one more cast would have caught a nice brookie but I decided to live to cast another day. Just as it started to rain Mark came to find me and we jumped in the truck and drove out of camp in a heavy thunderstorm.
It was a dark and stormy night (honestly), and we had just pulled onto the highway off Chick Creek Road and I was accelerating up to speed. The forest and underbrush are heavy on both sides of the road. Out of the trees on the left side of the road I saw a doe running towards the road. I jumped on the brakes and barely had time to react before she ran right into the side of the truck. She tore off the driver’s side mirror with her head and smashed into the side panel. I pulled over, put on the flashers, and went to check on the deer and retrieve the mirror. As I was walking down the road another truck came and smashed the mirror into pieces. So, as I walked back to find the deer, I was picking up pieces of mirror. As I picked up one of the pieces my hand felt something soft and warm. It was a chunk of deer!
I found most of the deer lying on the side of the road in pretty bad shape. I was hoping it would not be suffering, forcing me to dispatch it with my Scout knife. No need for that. If the collision with my truck didn’t kill it the eighteen-wheeler that passed by certainly put it out of its misery. He didn’t even hit his brakes, just blew his horn as he tenderized the venison. I drug the carcass off the road far enough so the bears wouldn’t get hit while they ate their breakfast. I thought about throwing it into my truck and taking it back to camp to supplement the food budget but I didn’t have a deer tag and the season isn’t open. Don’t misunderstand, I feel awful about killing the deer, but it was definitely suicidal (or trying to play tag with me) and the accident was unavoidable. It was a sad end to an otherwise great day.
.JPG)
