August 25, 2014
I woke up before the sun rose and left before anyone in the campground was even awake. Somehow, my engine light didn't come on again. So, although I had originally intended to stop in Wichita Falls to get it checked out, I decided this was no longer necessary. I would just get it checked at home. [One month after the trip, the fan belt busted and the head gasket blew!]
I made the long drive home in good time and had dinner with Cassie and my family. My trip lasted nearly four weeks and I loved every bit of it. I am glad to be back with my friends and family, but part of me still yearns to be cruising around a lake in an aluminum jon boat, jigging for a striped bass out of a kayak in 180 feet of water, paddling through a lagoon with only the manatees and mosquitoes to accompany me, launching a live crab at a monster permit, or listening to Tin Cup Chalice by Jimmy Buffet as I burn rubber to The Dream Stream.
Final
Odometer - 6360 mi
Drive Time - 142 hrs
Friday, March 20, 2015
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Day 25 - Amarillo, TX
August 24, 2014
I awoke early in the morning and packed up my camp before heading to the river one last time. Of course, Mr. Jimmy Buffet accompanied me once again. For the last few days, he was the sole occupant of my stereo. I fished for several hours and caught a 10" rainbow. As I was leaving, however, I noticed the most beautiful rainbow trout I have ever seen. The large fish had an electrifying, green back and bright pink sides, with even hints of orange. I crept up on it and cast my nymph rig. This was a mistake. I should have been patient and tied on a more delicate dry fly rig. The big weight and indicator did not completely scare the fish. But the rig did spook it enough for it to meander to another part of the river where I lost it. Finally, I had to leave.
In the parking lot, I cleaned up my truck. I got rid of all of the trash that littered the cab and packed up the rods that I had left geared up in the passenger's seat for the last few days. I stopped by the Chaparral General Store once more for an icecream sandwich and then began the long journey home.
North of Amarillo, my check engine light came on. I pulled over and called my parents. I then made the decision to continue onward to a KOA campground in Amarillo. I arrived very late at night and slept in the bed of my truck.
Odometer - 5750 mi
The final fish! A 10" rainbow trout
I awoke early in the morning and packed up my camp before heading to the river one last time. Of course, Mr. Jimmy Buffet accompanied me once again. For the last few days, he was the sole occupant of my stereo. I fished for several hours and caught a 10" rainbow. As I was leaving, however, I noticed the most beautiful rainbow trout I have ever seen. The large fish had an electrifying, green back and bright pink sides, with even hints of orange. I crept up on it and cast my nymph rig. This was a mistake. I should have been patient and tied on a more delicate dry fly rig. The big weight and indicator did not completely scare the fish. But the rig did spook it enough for it to meander to another part of the river where I lost it. Finally, I had to leave.
In the parking lot, I cleaned up my truck. I got rid of all of the trash that littered the cab and packed up the rods that I had left geared up in the passenger's seat for the last few days. I stopped by the Chaparral General Store once more for an icecream sandwich and then began the long journey home.
North of Amarillo, my check engine light came on. I pulled over and called my parents. I then made the decision to continue onward to a KOA campground in Amarillo. I arrived very late at night and slept in the bed of my truck.
Odometer - 5750 mi
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Day 24 - Eleven Mile State Park, CO
August 23, 2014
I woke up naturally at 6:30 AM and made a breakfast of eggs and bacon. I was on the water at 8:30 AM and casting a nymph rig with a #14 Copper John followed by a #18 Pheasant Tail with flash and no bead and ended with a #20 RS-2. At 9 AM, I hooked a big brown trout. He made a huge jump and tossed the middle hook that he had intially struck. Luckily for me, the RS-2 caught his tail. I fought him for quite a while and walked fifteen yards downstream with him as he ran. Finally, I landed the 16.5" long, 3" wide brown. This is the largest trout I have ever caught. I eased the artistically colored fish back into the water and kept fishing.
When the tricos started hatching, I switched to my last foam bodied caddis and trailed it with a #20 trico and a #22 trico. I caught a small trout on the caddis. I dropped the last two tricos and tied on the pheasant tail and RS-2 again. I caught another small trout and then got a big hit on the caddis at the same spot where I had previously caught the large brown. I didn't get the hook set.
The bite died down. So, I wandered downriver in search of fishing holes to target later in the evening. By 11:30 AM, it was too windy for me to fly fish. I left the river and made sandwiches for lunch on the back of my truck. Afterward, I went to the nearby Chaparral General Store to buy some more flies and an icecream sandwich. I talked for nearly and hour with a man who was working there. The man's name was Warner, and he emanated energy as he spoke of fly fishing. He gave me some good advice for fishing the river and lit up as he told me about the salmon run between the 2nd and 4th weeks of October every year. I am not sure where he was from but he had a very interesting accent, one in which he barely acknowledged the letter R in the words he spoke. I greatly enjoyed listening to him as he told me tales of the monster fish that lurked within the realm of The Dream Stream.
I headed back to camp and wrote in my journal for a while. I returned to the stream at 4:30 PM, cruising to Parrot Head music (Jimmy Buffet). I parked in the lot outside of the front gate to the park and napped as I waited for the wind to die. It never did, and it looked like it was about to rain. So, I decided to head back to my camp and enjoy the last real night of my trip.
I was able to start my fire much more easily than the night before, as I had dried out the wood with the previous night's fire. I cooked sausage and egg burritos, tying fly rigs as I waited for them to cook. I enjoyed my last night with a couple beers, my last cigar, and a great view of the surrounding scenery.
Afterward, as I was packing up for the night, some people came by and asked me if I knew where a certain campground was located. I didn't, but I offered to drive them around to find it. Being as they had been wandering for nearly an hour, they gladly accepted. They welcomed me to breakfast in the morning, but I graciously declined, telling them that I would be on the river early in the morning.
By 10:40 PM, I was in bed.
Odometer - 5300 mi
My camp
Wild pronghorn antelope on the way to The Dream Stream from my campground
My 16.5" Dream Stream Brown!
Exploring new fishing grounds
BTHO Cancer!
I woke up naturally at 6:30 AM and made a breakfast of eggs and bacon. I was on the water at 8:30 AM and casting a nymph rig with a #14 Copper John followed by a #18 Pheasant Tail with flash and no bead and ended with a #20 RS-2. At 9 AM, I hooked a big brown trout. He made a huge jump and tossed the middle hook that he had intially struck. Luckily for me, the RS-2 caught his tail. I fought him for quite a while and walked fifteen yards downstream with him as he ran. Finally, I landed the 16.5" long, 3" wide brown. This is the largest trout I have ever caught. I eased the artistically colored fish back into the water and kept fishing.
When the tricos started hatching, I switched to my last foam bodied caddis and trailed it with a #20 trico and a #22 trico. I caught a small trout on the caddis. I dropped the last two tricos and tied on the pheasant tail and RS-2 again. I caught another small trout and then got a big hit on the caddis at the same spot where I had previously caught the large brown. I didn't get the hook set.
The bite died down. So, I wandered downriver in search of fishing holes to target later in the evening. By 11:30 AM, it was too windy for me to fly fish. I left the river and made sandwiches for lunch on the back of my truck. Afterward, I went to the nearby Chaparral General Store to buy some more flies and an icecream sandwich. I talked for nearly and hour with a man who was working there. The man's name was Warner, and he emanated energy as he spoke of fly fishing. He gave me some good advice for fishing the river and lit up as he told me about the salmon run between the 2nd and 4th weeks of October every year. I am not sure where he was from but he had a very interesting accent, one in which he barely acknowledged the letter R in the words he spoke. I greatly enjoyed listening to him as he told me tales of the monster fish that lurked within the realm of The Dream Stream.
I headed back to camp and wrote in my journal for a while. I returned to the stream at 4:30 PM, cruising to Parrot Head music (Jimmy Buffet). I parked in the lot outside of the front gate to the park and napped as I waited for the wind to die. It never did, and it looked like it was about to rain. So, I decided to head back to my camp and enjoy the last real night of my trip.
I was able to start my fire much more easily than the night before, as I had dried out the wood with the previous night's fire. I cooked sausage and egg burritos, tying fly rigs as I waited for them to cook. I enjoyed my last night with a couple beers, my last cigar, and a great view of the surrounding scenery.
Afterward, as I was packing up for the night, some people came by and asked me if I knew where a certain campground was located. I didn't, but I offered to drive them around to find it. Being as they had been wandering for nearly an hour, they gladly accepted. They welcomed me to breakfast in the morning, but I graciously declined, telling them that I would be on the river early in the morning.
By 10:40 PM, I was in bed.
Odometer - 5300 mi
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Day 23 - Eleven Mile State Park, CO
August 22, 2014
Up at 6 AM, I packed all of my gear, still wet from the rain, and drove to the Lake George General Store. I stopped at the entrance to the Eleven Mile Canyon State Park and ate a cereal breakfast at a great overlook spot as I listened to Jimmy Buffet on the radio. At the store, I met Zach Tokach, my fishing guide. We drove to Spinney Mountain State Park where we fished the river below the Spinney Reservoir. This part of the river is referred to as The Dream Stream for the monster brown, cutthroat, and rainbow trout that it puts out. The Spinney Reservoir, Zach told me, is one of the top ten fly fishing reservoirs in the world.
We started fishing with a three fly nymph rig. Zach taught me how to cast it and properly mend the line. I hooked two fingerling cutbows. Although it was very cloudy, the sun peeked out for a little while at 9:30 AM. This ignited the trico hatch and fish started hitting the water. I hooked a big fish behind a boulder, but it straightened the hook and escaped. I must have been a monster. Next, I hooked a 20" brown in a pool behind some rapids. He tore off with my line. This wasn't his first rodeo. He ran under a rock and jumped two feet out of the water on the other side of the rock. With ease, he popped the hook out of his mouth.
We fished until 2 PM with no more luck. I really enjoyed fishing with Zach and he gave me a dozen flies before he left.
Now, it was cloudy and raining. I decided to search for a campground. I found one at Eleven Mile State Park at the Rocky Ridge Campground. The set up was perfect. I was able to string my tarp between a small tree and the picnic table and then set up my tent underneath it, as it rained. I made a quick sandwich in my car and then drove back to do some more fishing. I jammed to Jimmy Buffet on Margaritaville Radio as I drove. Although I was far from the sea, there was something about Jimmy's music that fit the environment perfectly. It was the only music I played.
Back on the water, I had a big strike on my foam bodied caddis, but the fish missed the fly. A little later, I hooked a 13" and a 10" brown trout. A beast then struck my caddis and I got a great hook set. Unfortunately, my line broke at the surgeons know I had used to tie on my tippet. I lost all three of my flies and, more importantly, I lost the fish. I tied back on a new rig but had no further luck. As the sun set, it turned the grass and mountains and water into gold.
When I returned to my campground, it took me an hour to start my campfire. Hooray for wet firewood! Finally, however, I got it started and cooked the rest of my hot dogs for dinner.
Up at 6 AM, I packed all of my gear, still wet from the rain, and drove to the Lake George General Store. I stopped at the entrance to the Eleven Mile Canyon State Park and ate a cereal breakfast at a great overlook spot as I listened to Jimmy Buffet on the radio. At the store, I met Zach Tokach, my fishing guide. We drove to Spinney Mountain State Park where we fished the river below the Spinney Reservoir. This part of the river is referred to as The Dream Stream for the monster brown, cutthroat, and rainbow trout that it puts out. The Spinney Reservoir, Zach told me, is one of the top ten fly fishing reservoirs in the world.
We started fishing with a three fly nymph rig. Zach taught me how to cast it and properly mend the line. I hooked two fingerling cutbows. Although it was very cloudy, the sun peeked out for a little while at 9:30 AM. This ignited the trico hatch and fish started hitting the water. I hooked a big fish behind a boulder, but it straightened the hook and escaped. I must have been a monster. Next, I hooked a 20" brown in a pool behind some rapids. He tore off with my line. This wasn't his first rodeo. He ran under a rock and jumped two feet out of the water on the other side of the rock. With ease, he popped the hook out of his mouth.
We fished until 2 PM with no more luck. I really enjoyed fishing with Zach and he gave me a dozen flies before he left.
Now, it was cloudy and raining. I decided to search for a campground. I found one at Eleven Mile State Park at the Rocky Ridge Campground. The set up was perfect. I was able to string my tarp between a small tree and the picnic table and then set up my tent underneath it, as it rained. I made a quick sandwich in my car and then drove back to do some more fishing. I jammed to Jimmy Buffet on Margaritaville Radio as I drove. Although I was far from the sea, there was something about Jimmy's music that fit the environment perfectly. It was the only music I played.
Back on the water, I had a big strike on my foam bodied caddis, but the fish missed the fly. A little later, I hooked a 13" and a 10" brown trout. A beast then struck my caddis and I got a great hook set. Unfortunately, my line broke at the surgeons know I had used to tie on my tippet. I lost all three of my flies and, more importantly, I lost the fish. I tied back on a new rig but had no further luck. As the sun set, it turned the grass and mountains and water into gold.
When I returned to my campground, it took me an hour to start my campfire. Hooray for wet firewood! Finally, however, I got it started and cooked the rest of my hot dogs for dinner.
13" Brown Trout
10" Brown Trout
Golden landscape as the sun set
Monday, March 16, 2015
Day 22 - Eleven Mile Canyon State Park, CO
August 21, 2014
I woke up at 7 AM and made a big breakfast of eggs and bacon. There are few scents better than that of bacon frying on a cold morning. I bid farewell to Steve and headed for the river. By 8:30, I was in the water. I found a huge boulder about 200 yards down river of the first entrance to Cove Campground that looked like a good fishing spot. As I approached the boulder, I saw some fish surfacing behind it. So, I skirted around a small island and stalked up to the fish from downstream. I found a big rainbow trout not too far ahead and to the right of me. Around 9:30, I came to realize that I had stumbled upon a sweet spot for trout. Fish hit the water all around me. At about 10 AM, the tricos began hatching. The air was thick with flies. Dead bugs littered the surface of the water.
I threw many different fly patterns at the fish. Around 11, I switched back to a small trico pattern after trying about a dozen flies, all with no luck. This time, however, I really concentrated on getting the drift of the fly to look as natural as possible as it progressed downriver and over the big trout I had originally seen. He was hanging out in a little more than a foot of water. Though it was subtle, I saw the rainbow fin up to the surface of the water and sip my fly. I set the hook perfectly. Fish on! The fish's power and strength emerged as I fought him with my dad's 3 wt. Sage fly rod. After about a two or three minute fight, I landed the 15", 3 lb. rainbow. He was beautiful. I held him in the water until he had regained enough of his strength to swim away.
I caught my next fish at noon. I was using a Rainbow Warrior followed 20" by a RS-2. I had a 1 B splitshot leading the Rainbow warrior. I hooked the 13" cutthroat after my fly had drifted downstream of me and I was beginning my cast back upriver. I guess the lurch of the fly sparked the fish's reaction.
The bite died at 12:15 PM, so I left for a lunch break. Knowing how many fish had been around me, I should have had a lot more strikes. So, I decided it would be worth it to set up a guided trip to learn the techniques I needed to be a successful fly fisherman. I called the South Platte Fly Shop and set up a trip for the next day. I then went to the Lake George General Store where I saw Rick, the guy from the fly shop who had helped me the day before. He had caught 13 fish on the same fly I had been using! I definitely needed some guidance.
When I returned to my campground, I found a paper on the post next to my site saying that it had been reserved for the following two nights. That would have been nice to know earlier! Realizing that I would likely not find another site in the campground for the weekend, I elected to climb a nearby mountain instead of fishing. The mountain was adjacent to my campground and took about half an hour to climb. It was farely easy, but there were some large boulders I had to scale that would have resulted in some less than desirable consequences if I had slipped. Nonetheless, I reached the top. The view was outstanding. I added a rock to a stack that someone else had begun and then lit a cigar. I sat up there for several hours enjoying the quiet, yet beautiful, scenery. To one side, I could see the canyon where I had been fishing. To the other, I could see an enormous valley enclosed by mountains. Although it rained lightly for a while, this was my favorite sitting spot of the entire trip. I don't know if anyone could hear me, but I shouted as loud as I could from the top of the mountain, just for the heck of it. I called Cassie before heading back down because I had cell service here, but not in the campground.
At my campground, I realized that my tent's rainfly was useless. So, I draped my blue tarp over the tent. I ate cold hotdogs for dinner because it was raining too much to start a fire. Sleeping in the cool environment was a welcomed relief from the hot and humid areas I had been camping in previously.
15" Rainbow Trout
The river, surrounded by brush and with the Cove Campground in the background
My fishing hole. The large boulder I fished behind is off the screen, upstream to the left. I stood downriver just beyond the furthest brush on the water.
View from the drive into the canyon
The climb up the mountain
The mountain overlook
The existing rock pile with my new addition
My campground
I woke up at 7 AM and made a big breakfast of eggs and bacon. There are few scents better than that of bacon frying on a cold morning. I bid farewell to Steve and headed for the river. By 8:30, I was in the water. I found a huge boulder about 200 yards down river of the first entrance to Cove Campground that looked like a good fishing spot. As I approached the boulder, I saw some fish surfacing behind it. So, I skirted around a small island and stalked up to the fish from downstream. I found a big rainbow trout not too far ahead and to the right of me. Around 9:30, I came to realize that I had stumbled upon a sweet spot for trout. Fish hit the water all around me. At about 10 AM, the tricos began hatching. The air was thick with flies. Dead bugs littered the surface of the water.
I threw many different fly patterns at the fish. Around 11, I switched back to a small trico pattern after trying about a dozen flies, all with no luck. This time, however, I really concentrated on getting the drift of the fly to look as natural as possible as it progressed downriver and over the big trout I had originally seen. He was hanging out in a little more than a foot of water. Though it was subtle, I saw the rainbow fin up to the surface of the water and sip my fly. I set the hook perfectly. Fish on! The fish's power and strength emerged as I fought him with my dad's 3 wt. Sage fly rod. After about a two or three minute fight, I landed the 15", 3 lb. rainbow. He was beautiful. I held him in the water until he had regained enough of his strength to swim away.
I caught my next fish at noon. I was using a Rainbow Warrior followed 20" by a RS-2. I had a 1 B splitshot leading the Rainbow warrior. I hooked the 13" cutthroat after my fly had drifted downstream of me and I was beginning my cast back upriver. I guess the lurch of the fly sparked the fish's reaction.
The bite died at 12:15 PM, so I left for a lunch break. Knowing how many fish had been around me, I should have had a lot more strikes. So, I decided it would be worth it to set up a guided trip to learn the techniques I needed to be a successful fly fisherman. I called the South Platte Fly Shop and set up a trip for the next day. I then went to the Lake George General Store where I saw Rick, the guy from the fly shop who had helped me the day before. He had caught 13 fish on the same fly I had been using! I definitely needed some guidance.
When I returned to my campground, I found a paper on the post next to my site saying that it had been reserved for the following two nights. That would have been nice to know earlier! Realizing that I would likely not find another site in the campground for the weekend, I elected to climb a nearby mountain instead of fishing. The mountain was adjacent to my campground and took about half an hour to climb. It was farely easy, but there were some large boulders I had to scale that would have resulted in some less than desirable consequences if I had slipped. Nonetheless, I reached the top. The view was outstanding. I added a rock to a stack that someone else had begun and then lit a cigar. I sat up there for several hours enjoying the quiet, yet beautiful, scenery. To one side, I could see the canyon where I had been fishing. To the other, I could see an enormous valley enclosed by mountains. Although it rained lightly for a while, this was my favorite sitting spot of the entire trip. I don't know if anyone could hear me, but I shouted as loud as I could from the top of the mountain, just for the heck of it. I called Cassie before heading back down because I had cell service here, but not in the campground.
At my campground, I realized that my tent's rainfly was useless. So, I draped my blue tarp over the tent. I ate cold hotdogs for dinner because it was raining too much to start a fire. Sleeping in the cool environment was a welcomed relief from the hot and humid areas I had been camping in previously.
13" Cuttroat Trout
The existing rock pile with my new addition
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Day 21 - Eleven Mile Canyon State Park, CO
August 20, 2014
After breakfast and taking pictures in the front yard, I thanked Cassie's aunt and uncle for letting me stay at their house and headed to my next fishing destination. I stopped in Woodland Park and went to the South Platte Fly Shop. Here, I purchased more flies and some Redington waders. The guys at the fly shop were very helpful and gave me a lot of guidance on where and how to fish. I then picked up some groceries and drove onward.
After another thirty minutes to an hour of driving, I reached Eleven Mile Canyon State Park. The drive through the canyon was beautiful. I drove to the end of the canyon and began stopping at the various campgrounds as I made my way back toward the entrance. I would have been glad to stay at any of the campsites. The problem, however, was that they all had little signs saying that they were reserved from August 22 through 24, Friday through Sunday. I had planned to stay for four nights and really didn't want to have to pack up my stuff and move half way through the stay. I took a break to set up my fishing gear at one campground, then I kept searching.
Finally, I found a couple sites that didn't have reservation signs. Bingo. It was about a 60 yard walk to the campground from the parking lot; I assumed that was why no one reserved it. Plus, there were no trees for shade. It was simply a flat campground with a fire pit and a picnic table, nothing more. However, it wasn't reserved and I would be able to stay here for the next four nights. Wanting to get onto the water to wet my flies, I dumped my stuff at the site to mark it as mine, and then I left for the stream. I found a stretch of creek that looked "fishy;" so, I pulled off to the side of the road, threw on my waders, and hopped in. I found some fish surfacing for the light, evening trico hatch. I got two strikes on a small trico dry fly but didn't set the hook in time. I fished for an hour or so and then headed back to my campsite.
When I returned to the campground, I parked next to an older man who was unloading his truck. We spoke for quite a while. The man, Steve Young, worked for newspaper companies all his life. At one point, he even worked for the Houston Chronicle. Now, he is in Omaha, Nebraska. Steve told me that he grew up hunting, fishing, and camping. He suggested I go backpacking in Pinedale, WY, saying it is the best backpacking he has ever experienced. When he was a kid, he used to spend the entire month of August every year camping with his dad. Then, when his granddaughters were growing up, he would take them camping and teach them about the outdoors. Now, he does a lot of camping alone. We laughed when he said people question him for camping alone, for I have encountered the same attitude when I tell people of my trip. There are some things you just can't explain. When I went to bed, Steve stayed up to watch the the stars.
South Platte Fly Shop stream report and map
From the entrance of the state park
When I returned to the campground, I parked next to an older man who was unloading his truck. We spoke for quite a while. The man, Steve Young, worked for newspaper companies all his life. At one point, he even worked for the Houston Chronicle. Now, he is in Omaha, Nebraska. Steve told me that he grew up hunting, fishing, and camping. He suggested I go backpacking in Pinedale, WY, saying it is the best backpacking he has ever experienced. When he was a kid, he used to spend the entire month of August every year camping with his dad. Then, when his granddaughters were growing up, he would take them camping and teach them about the outdoors. Now, he does a lot of camping alone. We laughed when he said people question him for camping alone, for I have encountered the same attitude when I tell people of my trip. There are some things you just can't explain. When I went to bed, Steve stayed up to watch the the stars.
Day 20 - Colorado Springs, CO
August 19, 2014
For better or worse, I showered and got back on the road after only sleeping four hours. I had made plans to meet another friend, Erica, in Colorado Springs, and I knew I had a long distance to travel. I grabbed breakfast at a McDonalds at a truck stop.
I traveled up through Wichita, KS. Along the way, I stopped for gas and more coffee. I said hello to a young African American guy who was cleaning out the trashcans at the gas stalls. I asked him how his day was going. He replied "I'm living the dream." Sensing the sarcasm on his voice, I laughed and asked "Oh really?" He looked at me and said "yea, someone's dream... not mine." I didn't have a response. I went inside to use the restroom and get some coffee, all the while thinking about what he said. As I drove away, I noticed him several stalls down and pulled up next to him. "Hey man, you said this wasn't your dream. So, what is your dream?" I asked. This question seemed to catch him off guard, I doubt he expected me to ask him that. He said "I want to open my own shoe store." "Well," I replied, "I wish you the best." He looked me in the eye, walked over to my truck, and shook my hand as he thanked me. I was glad I asked him.
I made great time as I cut west to my destination. Plus, I forgot that I would have a timezone change as I traveled. So I arrived at my destination very early. I grabbed a late lunch at Wendy's in Colorado Springs and then went to the Peak Fly Shop and got some flies for trout fishing the next couple days. When Erica got out of a meeting at the Air Force Academy, I met her at a Starbucks and we had a little time to talk and catch up. We were limited to 20 minutes, as I had plans to meet some of Cassie's relatives in Colorado Springs, as well.
After departing with Erica, I met Cassie's aunt, uncle, and their two sons at their home. I played soccer with the little guys before dinner. After dinner, Cassie's uncle, his youngest son, and I walked around the Garden of the Gods. That night, Cassie's aunt and uncle helped me plan where I would camp the next few nights. One thing I encountered in Colorado that I hadn't anywhere else on the trip was the demand for campgrounds. Apparently, most campgrounds in Colorado are reserved well in advance. Fingers crossed, I hoped I could find a vacant campground.
Odometer - 5100 mi
Garden of the Gods
For better or worse, I showered and got back on the road after only sleeping four hours. I had made plans to meet another friend, Erica, in Colorado Springs, and I knew I had a long distance to travel. I grabbed breakfast at a McDonalds at a truck stop.
I traveled up through Wichita, KS. Along the way, I stopped for gas and more coffee. I said hello to a young African American guy who was cleaning out the trashcans at the gas stalls. I asked him how his day was going. He replied "I'm living the dream." Sensing the sarcasm on his voice, I laughed and asked "Oh really?" He looked at me and said "yea, someone's dream... not mine." I didn't have a response. I went inside to use the restroom and get some coffee, all the while thinking about what he said. As I drove away, I noticed him several stalls down and pulled up next to him. "Hey man, you said this wasn't your dream. So, what is your dream?" I asked. This question seemed to catch him off guard, I doubt he expected me to ask him that. He said "I want to open my own shoe store." "Well," I replied, "I wish you the best." He looked me in the eye, walked over to my truck, and shook my hand as he thanked me. I was glad I asked him.
I made great time as I cut west to my destination. Plus, I forgot that I would have a timezone change as I traveled. So I arrived at my destination very early. I grabbed a late lunch at Wendy's in Colorado Springs and then went to the Peak Fly Shop and got some flies for trout fishing the next couple days. When Erica got out of a meeting at the Air Force Academy, I met her at a Starbucks and we had a little time to talk and catch up. We were limited to 20 minutes, as I had plans to meet some of Cassie's relatives in Colorado Springs, as well.
After departing with Erica, I met Cassie's aunt, uncle, and their two sons at their home. I played soccer with the little guys before dinner. After dinner, Cassie's uncle, his youngest son, and I walked around the Garden of the Gods. That night, Cassie's aunt and uncle helped me plan where I would camp the next few nights. One thing I encountered in Colorado that I hadn't anywhere else on the trip was the demand for campgrounds. Apparently, most campgrounds in Colorado are reserved well in advance. Fingers crossed, I hoped I could find a vacant campground.
Odometer - 5100 mi
Day 19 - Wellington, KS
August 18, 2014
I left the KOA campground at 6:30 AM, stopped at Chick-fil-A in Oxford for breakfast, and went to an auto shop to change the oil in my truck. Although I would have never guessed it, there was a ton of traffic in Oxford and I ended up in stop-and-go traffic for over an hour. Finally, I started cruising and listened to a mix of music and talk-shows on the radio as I traveled through Birmingham, Memphis, and Little Rock. I had lunch at a McDonalds and ended up speaking with an old man who was missing all but a couple of his teeth. It was hard to understand what he was saying, but I enjoyed talking with him. I then got back on the road and drove the rest of the way to Tulsa, OK.
Kelsey and I went to a local bar called The R Bar and spent an hour or so catching up. We were good friends in college and I enjoyed having the time to visit and talk with her. After I left, I drove two and a half hours, surrounded by storms, to the Wellington KOA campground. The lightning from the storms artistically colored the night sky. Arriving at 12:30 AM, I decided to sleep in the cab of my truck to avoid the rain if it were to come. As it turned out, it never rained.
Today alone, I traveled 851 miles.
Odometer - 4543 mi
Driving time - 101 hrs
Sorry folks... no time for pictures today
Sorry folks... no time for pictures today
Day 18 - Oxford, AL
August 17, 2014
I woke up at 6:30 AM, was out of my tent by 6:50, and packed and on the water by 7:30. I paddled back to the Ranger Station and dropped all of my stuff, other than my fishing gear, at my truck. Running into a man and his wife sliding into the water in a tandem canoe for a Sunday morning paddle, I laughed when they called me crazy for camping in the lagoon this time of year. I ventured out onto the water to fish for a while. Not having any luck, I paddled back to my truck at 9:30. I met a little boy and his mom and talked with them for a little bit. The boy was very intrigued when I told him I had spent the last three nights in the lagoon. As I talked with them, his mom told me that I needed to check out Washington Oaks Gardens State Park just north of the lagoon. She said the park was absolutely beautiful and the fishing, amazing. After they left, I met a kayak fisherman who had caught a redfish, a snook, and a speckled trout just that morning. Clearly, he knew what he was doing and I did not. He told me a lot about kayak fishing. When fly fishing, he likes the Native Slayer kayak because it is easy to stand on and fight a fish, and it has relatively little clutter on the surface to catch fly line. He can paddle nearly 20 miles in it, but he is exhausted and aching by the end of the day. So, for long paddles, he likes his Hobie kayak that has too much clutter for fly fishing but also has the foot pedals that allow him to easily travel 20 miles.
After cleaning the canoe and my fishing gear, I reorganized my truck, let the park rangers know I was off the water, and headed out at noon. On my way out, I stopped to check out the beach. It would be pretty embarrassing for me to stay at a national seashore for four days and never actually see the seashore! I also took advantage outside shower at the entrance to the park and attempted to scrub off the three days of grime from my body.
I stopped for a lunch of tacos and a milkshake at Izzy's Island Tacos and Ice Cream at New Smyrna Beach. Then, I began the long drive. While camping at the lagoon, I decided I was tired of sleeping in hot, humid weather and wanted to spend the rest of my trip in a nicer climate. So, I headed northwest. I called my neighbor, Mr. Easterly, and consulted his advice on fishing in Arkansas and Colorado. I also called my friend Kelsey and made plans to meet her in Tulsa, where she works. I had Taco Bell for dinner and stayed at the Oxford/Talladega Dandy RV KOA. I draped my mosquito net over the back of my truck and slept there.
Odometer - 3692 mi
Driving time - 86 hrs
A few more scenes from my campground
Heading out!
Canaveral National Seashore
I woke up at 6:30 AM, was out of my tent by 6:50, and packed and on the water by 7:30. I paddled back to the Ranger Station and dropped all of my stuff, other than my fishing gear, at my truck. Running into a man and his wife sliding into the water in a tandem canoe for a Sunday morning paddle, I laughed when they called me crazy for camping in the lagoon this time of year. I ventured out onto the water to fish for a while. Not having any luck, I paddled back to my truck at 9:30. I met a little boy and his mom and talked with them for a little bit. The boy was very intrigued when I told him I had spent the last three nights in the lagoon. As I talked with them, his mom told me that I needed to check out Washington Oaks Gardens State Park just north of the lagoon. She said the park was absolutely beautiful and the fishing, amazing. After they left, I met a kayak fisherman who had caught a redfish, a snook, and a speckled trout just that morning. Clearly, he knew what he was doing and I did not. He told me a lot about kayak fishing. When fly fishing, he likes the Native Slayer kayak because it is easy to stand on and fight a fish, and it has relatively little clutter on the surface to catch fly line. He can paddle nearly 20 miles in it, but he is exhausted and aching by the end of the day. So, for long paddles, he likes his Hobie kayak that has too much clutter for fly fishing but also has the foot pedals that allow him to easily travel 20 miles.
After cleaning the canoe and my fishing gear, I reorganized my truck, let the park rangers know I was off the water, and headed out at noon. On my way out, I stopped to check out the beach. It would be pretty embarrassing for me to stay at a national seashore for four days and never actually see the seashore! I also took advantage outside shower at the entrance to the park and attempted to scrub off the three days of grime from my body.
I stopped for a lunch of tacos and a milkshake at Izzy's Island Tacos and Ice Cream at New Smyrna Beach. Then, I began the long drive. While camping at the lagoon, I decided I was tired of sleeping in hot, humid weather and wanted to spend the rest of my trip in a nicer climate. So, I headed northwest. I called my neighbor, Mr. Easterly, and consulted his advice on fishing in Arkansas and Colorado. I also called my friend Kelsey and made plans to meet her in Tulsa, where she works. I had Taco Bell for dinner and stayed at the Oxford/Talladega Dandy RV KOA. I draped my mosquito net over the back of my truck and slept there.
Odometer - 3692 mi
Driving time - 86 hrs
Day 17 - Mosquito Lagoon, FL
August 16, 2014
I woke up at 6:15 AM and was on the water by 6:30. I fished many different inlets on islands between my campsite and the park visitor's center. I had a good strike on a jig in a patch of grass but I didn't set the hook well and lost the fish. While on the water, I pulled off of a main channel and into a narrow water way. Here, I sat in my canoe in about 6 inches of water and had a breakfast of summer sausage and crackers. I was farther north from my campsite than I had yet been and chose my breakfast location in an area where I could watch the ibises hunt in the mud.
After breakfast, I paddled farther north through the narrow waterway. As there were no waves and I was in shallow water, I stood and paddled like an Italian gondolier through the extremely shallow water. To my left was a dense jungle of palms and other tall trees that ran parallel to the water; on my right were mud flats and grass islands broken up by small channels. I spooked some redfish or croakers in the shallow water. However, I was not concerned with fishing at the moment. Instead, I was enjoying the exploration of new territory. With no one within eyesight, I enjoyed the feeling of being alone in the wilderness. I especially enjoyed all of the different waterbirds around me. I found a few ibises on a grass island ahead of me and crouched in my canoe so that I could paddle as close to them as possible without them seeing me. I got within 20 yards and watched them for a while before moving onward.
For the distance I traveled and the shallow depth of the water, I was surprised to only get stuck once. Even then, I didn't have to get out of the canoe to free myself. As I reached the end of the mile or so long channel, I noticed another channel turning to the northwest. This waterway was a little deeper with a similar structure of tall trees on one side and low, grassy islands on the other; however, the sides were switched. At the entrance to the channel was a marker with #11 and an arrow pointing into it. Hoping this was the Treasure Island Paddle Trail that I had read about, I followed the arrow. I paddled while standing again and, while there were fewer birds here, this area had its own unique features. On the long island that was covered with trees, there were thousands upon thousands of small crabs on the shore. As I paddled, the crabs would see me and it would look like the entire shoreline of the island was receding into itself.
I encountered another unique feature when I had paddled about a half of a mile into the channel. I was less fond of this one. Cutting across the channel was a bright yellow tarp like thing that appeared to be some sort of tool to prevent water flow. Anchored on either side of the channel, the top of the barrier floated by having large foam pieces sewn into the tarp. The rest of the tarp hung below these floats and appeared to go to the bottom of the channel. At first, I thought this was the end of the trail. Then, I noticed that there was another numbered sign and arrow on the other side of the barrier. Well, I hadn't come all this way to be stopped by a road block. So, I backed up about fifteen yards and then paddled full speed at the part of the barrier that I thought to be weakest. I got a little over a third of my canoe over the barrier. I then moved to the front and paddled as hard as I could to get the back end of my canoe over the obstacle. Success! I paddled on. In less than a hundred yards, I found another barrier. I performed the same routine and got over it. Exhausted, I looked ahead and there were at least three barriers within sight! I conceded defeat and decided to turn around. I didn't want to be battling obstacles for the next several miles.
By the time I had gone back over the last obstacle on the way back to where I began, I was a pro at jumping the yellow barriers. I could nearly get the entire canoe over on just the first surge. In fact, I was taking a break after crossing that last barrier, taking pride in my ingenuity in getting over the barriers when I realized that the water was shallower than earlier. All this time I had been on the water and not once had I considered to see if the tide was going in or out! I knew that if the water reached low tide while I was still in the shallow channel, the mud would be too deep for me to get out and walk. I would have to wait for hours for the tide to rise again. With consistent afternoon thunderstorms in the area, getting stuck was a situation I wished to avoid. I paddled fast and flew through the channel. Luckily, I got out.
I continued onward and watched a Great Egret hunt by walking along the shore and sticking out one wing. I think it did this to either take the glare of the sun off of the water or trick the baitfish into thinking they were hidden by cover. Either way, the technique appeared effective. I then watched a pelican hunt by sitting on the water, spying fish, running on the surface of the water while flapping its wings, and then dive bombing the fish. This appeared less effective. Next, I watched an osprey dive into the water from 60' in the air. It flew off with a hefty mullet and the prize for the best hunting method. All of this occurred within five minutes.
After paddling a little farther, I found a long, 100 yard wide channel. The channel ran north-south with the wind blowing out of the southeast at my back, I fished by paddling to the east side of the channel and then allowing the wind to drift me across and down the channel. When I reached the other side, I paddled back to the east side and drifted again while fishing. I caught 13" speckled trout fishing this way and using an orange and white, Gulp swimbait on my spinning rod. The water was only about two feet deep. After catching my first fish in the lagoon, and with good wind conditions, I switched to a fly rod with a clouser minnow. I fished for another several hundred yards with no luck.
By now, I had drifted to the front gate of the park. I could see a herd of menacing clouds rolling my way and realized I was about 3 miles away from my camp. Time to paddle back. While the wind had been great for drift fishing, it was terrible for paddling into it with a light, aluminum canoe. If I tried to paddle at an angle to the wind, in the direction of my camp, the wind either turned the front of my canoe or simply slid my canoe and I right across the water. I couldn't even compensate for the power of the wind by increasing the angle of my path, I just kept getting blown off course. I ended up taking a lot of breaks and often paddling backward so that the light front end of the canoe drifted behind me instead of jutting into the wind like a sail. Nothing worked. However, after about 2 miles or so, I had a semi-intelligent thought. Instead of taking the wind at an angle to try to progress to my camp, I paddled directly into the wind, perpendicular to the path to my camp. I still had to fight the wind, but now I only had to struggle for distance, not for orientation. Plus, I was more aerodynamic. Once I thought I had paddled far enough, I turned around and let the wind push me as I made an angle in the direction of the camp, but not directly to it. This method worked great, and I started stagger-stepping my way to the camp. Finally, I was within a quarter mile of my camp and had a little time before the clouds reached me. I anchored in 6 feet of water and ate another lunch of summer sausage and crackers. By 12:30 PM, I had already paddled at least 7 miles. The first 4 were easy, the last 3 exhausted me.
As I sat and ate my lunch, I heard splashing behind me. I turned to see dolphins ripping through the water, chasing fish. They were easily within 10 yards of my canoe. All of a sudden, a dolphin jumped nearly completely out of the water, only 8 feet off the nose of my canoe! As it turned in the air, showing its white underbelly, I saw a large baitfish in its mouth. What an experience! The dolphins left soon afterward.
I paddled to within 50 yards of camp, anchored again and fished a little. I could see the storm coming but, not wanting to fight the bugs just yet, I decided to hang out in the canoe. The area didn't feel very fishy, so I laid back in my canoe, tilted my hat over my face, and took a nap. At 2 PM, I woke up and saw that the clouds looked much worse than earlier and were nearly on top of me. I lost my hat as I paddled back to camp. Although I didn't have to paddle very far downwind to retrieve my lost property, it was incredibly difficult to paddle back to camp, into the wind. The wind had really picked up during my nap. If I had waited until now to make my long paddle back from the front gate, I would have not physically been able to paddle against this wind for three miles. Needless to say, I was glad that I left when I did.
Returning to camp, I cleaned up the remnants of my trash that had been scattered around my camp after a raccoon marauded my garbage. I then rain-proofed all of my gear just in time for the rain to begin. The bottom of the clouds dropped out and the sky poured. Feeling and smelling filthy after 3 days of wearing the same clothes, I stripped off my garments and showered in the cool rain. Afterward, the huge overhang of the blue tarp over my tent acted as a great canopy to crouch under and dry off before diving into my tent. The unrelenting storm pounded my blue tarp with bucket-loads of rain, but I remained dry. More concerning was the lightning all around me and knowing that my tarp was strung between two trees. I hoped that the lightning would strike the tall palm trees rather than my oak tree and sapling. At one point, it sounded like a bolt of lightning did just that. I could have sworn it struck a tree not 20 yards away from my tent. Being that there was nothing I could do to prevent lighting from striking my trees, I decided to take a nap.
I woke up at 4 PM and wrote notes in my journal to use later to write this blog. At 5, I paddled out and fished for about an hour and a half. I decided to finally explore the little channel of water that wandered behind my camp. Just when I thought I had seen most of the lagoon, my eyes were opened to the immense size of this wilderness. Sitting in a channel in my canoe, only a stone throw away from my camp, I cast my gaze over the lagoon. No kidding, if I multiplied the entirety of all of the lagoon I had seen thus far by a factor of ten, it would not do justice to the size of the part of the lagoon I was now observed. Astounding.
I paddled around a little more before returning to the part of the lagoon off the front side of my camp. I observed a castnetter catch baitfish for a while. He would grab the net with his left hand at about its midpoint, with the beads hanging down. He would then grab one of the weighted beads and put it in his mouth. With two effective strings of beads hanging from his mouth, he grabbed the line of beads farthest away from his body. He grabbed the string at its lowest point, where it met the rest of the hanging, bunched up beads. Finally, he would spin clockwise and backhand cast the net.
Back at camp, I had a dinner of chicken noodle soup from a can and pear halves, also from a can. I cleaned up my campground and picked up a lot of trash that other people had left. Then, one last time, I paddled out onto the water to watch the the gorgeous sunset. When I got back to camp, I quickly got into my tent, now a pro at my nighttime routine. I squished all of the no-see-ums, mosquitoes, and even some new fire ants in my tent and then easily fell asleep.
Fishing terrain
The lagoon's premier breakfast table
The first channel
Stalking ibises
One of the fortified barriers... comparable to the Great Wall of China
My 13 inch speckled trout
Just entering the lagoon behind my camp
My camp!
I woke up at 6:15 AM and was on the water by 6:30. I fished many different inlets on islands between my campsite and the park visitor's center. I had a good strike on a jig in a patch of grass but I didn't set the hook well and lost the fish. While on the water, I pulled off of a main channel and into a narrow water way. Here, I sat in my canoe in about 6 inches of water and had a breakfast of summer sausage and crackers. I was farther north from my campsite than I had yet been and chose my breakfast location in an area where I could watch the ibises hunt in the mud.
After breakfast, I paddled farther north through the narrow waterway. As there were no waves and I was in shallow water, I stood and paddled like an Italian gondolier through the extremely shallow water. To my left was a dense jungle of palms and other tall trees that ran parallel to the water; on my right were mud flats and grass islands broken up by small channels. I spooked some redfish or croakers in the shallow water. However, I was not concerned with fishing at the moment. Instead, I was enjoying the exploration of new territory. With no one within eyesight, I enjoyed the feeling of being alone in the wilderness. I especially enjoyed all of the different waterbirds around me. I found a few ibises on a grass island ahead of me and crouched in my canoe so that I could paddle as close to them as possible without them seeing me. I got within 20 yards and watched them for a while before moving onward.
For the distance I traveled and the shallow depth of the water, I was surprised to only get stuck once. Even then, I didn't have to get out of the canoe to free myself. As I reached the end of the mile or so long channel, I noticed another channel turning to the northwest. This waterway was a little deeper with a similar structure of tall trees on one side and low, grassy islands on the other; however, the sides were switched. At the entrance to the channel was a marker with #11 and an arrow pointing into it. Hoping this was the Treasure Island Paddle Trail that I had read about, I followed the arrow. I paddled while standing again and, while there were fewer birds here, this area had its own unique features. On the long island that was covered with trees, there were thousands upon thousands of small crabs on the shore. As I paddled, the crabs would see me and it would look like the entire shoreline of the island was receding into itself.
I encountered another unique feature when I had paddled about a half of a mile into the channel. I was less fond of this one. Cutting across the channel was a bright yellow tarp like thing that appeared to be some sort of tool to prevent water flow. Anchored on either side of the channel, the top of the barrier floated by having large foam pieces sewn into the tarp. The rest of the tarp hung below these floats and appeared to go to the bottom of the channel. At first, I thought this was the end of the trail. Then, I noticed that there was another numbered sign and arrow on the other side of the barrier. Well, I hadn't come all this way to be stopped by a road block. So, I backed up about fifteen yards and then paddled full speed at the part of the barrier that I thought to be weakest. I got a little over a third of my canoe over the barrier. I then moved to the front and paddled as hard as I could to get the back end of my canoe over the obstacle. Success! I paddled on. In less than a hundred yards, I found another barrier. I performed the same routine and got over it. Exhausted, I looked ahead and there were at least three barriers within sight! I conceded defeat and decided to turn around. I didn't want to be battling obstacles for the next several miles.
By the time I had gone back over the last obstacle on the way back to where I began, I was a pro at jumping the yellow barriers. I could nearly get the entire canoe over on just the first surge. In fact, I was taking a break after crossing that last barrier, taking pride in my ingenuity in getting over the barriers when I realized that the water was shallower than earlier. All this time I had been on the water and not once had I considered to see if the tide was going in or out! I knew that if the water reached low tide while I was still in the shallow channel, the mud would be too deep for me to get out and walk. I would have to wait for hours for the tide to rise again. With consistent afternoon thunderstorms in the area, getting stuck was a situation I wished to avoid. I paddled fast and flew through the channel. Luckily, I got out.
I continued onward and watched a Great Egret hunt by walking along the shore and sticking out one wing. I think it did this to either take the glare of the sun off of the water or trick the baitfish into thinking they were hidden by cover. Either way, the technique appeared effective. I then watched a pelican hunt by sitting on the water, spying fish, running on the surface of the water while flapping its wings, and then dive bombing the fish. This appeared less effective. Next, I watched an osprey dive into the water from 60' in the air. It flew off with a hefty mullet and the prize for the best hunting method. All of this occurred within five minutes.
After paddling a little farther, I found a long, 100 yard wide channel. The channel ran north-south with the wind blowing out of the southeast at my back, I fished by paddling to the east side of the channel and then allowing the wind to drift me across and down the channel. When I reached the other side, I paddled back to the east side and drifted again while fishing. I caught 13" speckled trout fishing this way and using an orange and white, Gulp swimbait on my spinning rod. The water was only about two feet deep. After catching my first fish in the lagoon, and with good wind conditions, I switched to a fly rod with a clouser minnow. I fished for another several hundred yards with no luck.
By now, I had drifted to the front gate of the park. I could see a herd of menacing clouds rolling my way and realized I was about 3 miles away from my camp. Time to paddle back. While the wind had been great for drift fishing, it was terrible for paddling into it with a light, aluminum canoe. If I tried to paddle at an angle to the wind, in the direction of my camp, the wind either turned the front of my canoe or simply slid my canoe and I right across the water. I couldn't even compensate for the power of the wind by increasing the angle of my path, I just kept getting blown off course. I ended up taking a lot of breaks and often paddling backward so that the light front end of the canoe drifted behind me instead of jutting into the wind like a sail. Nothing worked. However, after about 2 miles or so, I had a semi-intelligent thought. Instead of taking the wind at an angle to try to progress to my camp, I paddled directly into the wind, perpendicular to the path to my camp. I still had to fight the wind, but now I only had to struggle for distance, not for orientation. Plus, I was more aerodynamic. Once I thought I had paddled far enough, I turned around and let the wind push me as I made an angle in the direction of the camp, but not directly to it. This method worked great, and I started stagger-stepping my way to the camp. Finally, I was within a quarter mile of my camp and had a little time before the clouds reached me. I anchored in 6 feet of water and ate another lunch of summer sausage and crackers. By 12:30 PM, I had already paddled at least 7 miles. The first 4 were easy, the last 3 exhausted me.
As I sat and ate my lunch, I heard splashing behind me. I turned to see dolphins ripping through the water, chasing fish. They were easily within 10 yards of my canoe. All of a sudden, a dolphin jumped nearly completely out of the water, only 8 feet off the nose of my canoe! As it turned in the air, showing its white underbelly, I saw a large baitfish in its mouth. What an experience! The dolphins left soon afterward.
I paddled to within 50 yards of camp, anchored again and fished a little. I could see the storm coming but, not wanting to fight the bugs just yet, I decided to hang out in the canoe. The area didn't feel very fishy, so I laid back in my canoe, tilted my hat over my face, and took a nap. At 2 PM, I woke up and saw that the clouds looked much worse than earlier and were nearly on top of me. I lost my hat as I paddled back to camp. Although I didn't have to paddle very far downwind to retrieve my lost property, it was incredibly difficult to paddle back to camp, into the wind. The wind had really picked up during my nap. If I had waited until now to make my long paddle back from the front gate, I would have not physically been able to paddle against this wind for three miles. Needless to say, I was glad that I left when I did.
Returning to camp, I cleaned up the remnants of my trash that had been scattered around my camp after a raccoon marauded my garbage. I then rain-proofed all of my gear just in time for the rain to begin. The bottom of the clouds dropped out and the sky poured. Feeling and smelling filthy after 3 days of wearing the same clothes, I stripped off my garments and showered in the cool rain. Afterward, the huge overhang of the blue tarp over my tent acted as a great canopy to crouch under and dry off before diving into my tent. The unrelenting storm pounded my blue tarp with bucket-loads of rain, but I remained dry. More concerning was the lightning all around me and knowing that my tarp was strung between two trees. I hoped that the lightning would strike the tall palm trees rather than my oak tree and sapling. At one point, it sounded like a bolt of lightning did just that. I could have sworn it struck a tree not 20 yards away from my tent. Being that there was nothing I could do to prevent lighting from striking my trees, I decided to take a nap.
I woke up at 4 PM and wrote notes in my journal to use later to write this blog. At 5, I paddled out and fished for about an hour and a half. I decided to finally explore the little channel of water that wandered behind my camp. Just when I thought I had seen most of the lagoon, my eyes were opened to the immense size of this wilderness. Sitting in a channel in my canoe, only a stone throw away from my camp, I cast my gaze over the lagoon. No kidding, if I multiplied the entirety of all of the lagoon I had seen thus far by a factor of ten, it would not do justice to the size of the part of the lagoon I was now observed. Astounding.
I paddled around a little more before returning to the part of the lagoon off the front side of my camp. I observed a castnetter catch baitfish for a while. He would grab the net with his left hand at about its midpoint, with the beads hanging down. He would then grab one of the weighted beads and put it in his mouth. With two effective strings of beads hanging from his mouth, he grabbed the line of beads farthest away from his body. He grabbed the string at its lowest point, where it met the rest of the hanging, bunched up beads. Finally, he would spin clockwise and backhand cast the net.
Back at camp, I had a dinner of chicken noodle soup from a can and pear halves, also from a can. I cleaned up my campground and picked up a lot of trash that other people had left. Then, one last time, I paddled out onto the water to watch the the gorgeous sunset. When I got back to camp, I quickly got into my tent, now a pro at my nighttime routine. I squished all of the no-see-ums, mosquitoes, and even some new fire ants in my tent and then easily fell asleep.
The last sunset
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