Greatest Winter ever Done in SKI? A Teton-centric look at winter so far..

Lets take a moment to pause and reflect on the remarkable winter that has transpired. Has it really been as deep as I think it has been? Why has this winter been so fruitful for the interior West? What's all this crap I hear about El Nino and La Nina? Let's try and put some numbers to what the heck is going on.

Looking out over the expanse of the Snake Rivers

First off has it really been good? Let's look at some SNOTEL data to settle that score. Below is a plot of the current SNOTEL snow water equivalent (SWE from here on out) and precipitation for Grand Targhee (elevation 9260 ft).

We can see that the Ghee is currently at 125% of the median SWE value for this date, sitting at about 31 inches of water. However, the highest median value occurs in early May, and that is about 46.4 inches, so we still have a ways to go. It's not like it can just stop snowing and the upper elevations will be fine, but then again it's early February and we are sitting in a good spot. As far as snowfall goes, currently the SNOTEL site has had around 337 inches so our average SWE per storm has been in that 8-10% range, which is pretty typical for Targhee, maybe a bit on the high side with some warmer storms and some atmospheric river events. Where things start to look more interesting is when we investigate the Phillips Bench SNOTEL site (elevation 8200 ft) on the east side of Teton Pass. 

At Phillips Bench we are sitting at 24.4 inches which is 144% percent of the median and only an inch less that the max value for the median which occurs in mid April. So theoretically, if it stopped snowing from now until April and the snow pack didn't melt, we'd be fine. That's pretty ridiculous when we realize that we are only through with the first week of February. Let's look at the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem and see where everyone sits. 

So we can see that with the exception of SW Montana, pretty much everyone is at or above average. Some truly huge numbers are showing up in the Salt River Range and the southern Wind River Range, areas that are heavily favored during periods of strong SW flow that have occurred during the atmospheric river events. The upper Green River basin is looking absolutely stacked for snowfall right now, with many sites recording far greater SWE values than the maximum median value that usually occurs in April or May.

Now even though SWE is almost all that matters for water supply, many skiers just care about inches of snow. We already discussed that Targhee SNOTEL was at 337, but the Chief Joseph plot is only at 325. Over at JHMR, the Raymer plot is at 371 inches and Rendevous summit is at an astounding 411 inches (as of Feb 9th). Now what is average? Well that is hard to say because the ski areas have a way of bull shitting their numbers, but we can say that it is probably close to (or greater than) 480" at 9000 ft at Targhee and closer to 420" at 9000 ft on the JHMR side. Many people have become used to the fact that Targhee gets more snow than Jackson, but this year that is simply not the case. To be fair, the Rendevous plot is at 9580' and the Raymer plot is at 9300', compared to 8800' at Chief Joe, but I don't think a difference of 800 ft can explain 85" of snow. Once again it has to due with the storms we have been getting, a lot of strong SW flow aloft with warmer temperatures. These kinds of storms can completely spill over the Teton crest before the air cools enough to produce precipitation. Since the Tetons are so narrow, the dynamics that drive leeward precipitation are quite a bit different than a range like the Sierra, where we would expect a rain shadow on the leeward side of the mountains.

No soup for you Vail!

Overall I think that it's fair to say that the entire western lower 48 is having a good winter. Places that are a little below average include western Montana, the Idaho Panhandle, and even a few places in western Washington state. Other than that, the Wasatch and Unitas are getting hammered, the Sierras annihilated, the central Cascades pummeled, and even Callmeradbro is sitting around 130% of median SWE. I am still holding out hope for my beloved Bridger Bowl, because all it would take is one 3 footer to put them right back on track.

With great snow comes great responsibility. I remotely triggered this guy from the ridge line on the left.

Why are we getting so many storms? Well the rather simple answer to this question is that the jet stream has been in a favorable position for the last two months or so, and the position of the jet is the main driving factor for the storm tracks we see in the inter-mountain west. Whether storms are generated in the western pacific by Kamchatka, or up near the Aleutian islands, or from atmospheric river events (more on this later) they need to be directed our way via the jet stream. Most meteorologists look at the 300 mb pressure level to see what the jet is up to, and a well organized, strong jet that is positioned around the 43rd parallel is just what we need to replenish the snake river plain convergence zone with moisture.

Current 300mb map used to initialize the NAM

Why has the jet been in such a favorable position so far this winter (excluding November)? Now this is a much harder question to answer and I really don't know, however no one really could have predicted this. In a basic sense the jet arises due to an energy imbalance. The equatorial regions have a surplus of energy (sunlight) and the poles have an energy deficit throughout the winter months. Thus there is a natural tendency for the atmosphere to want to transport energy pole-ward. The jet stream and storms (low pressure systems) serve the purpose of transporting both energy and momentum pole-ward. If we think very basically about the hot high pressure equator trying to transport energy and momentum via winds towards the cold, low pressure poles and then we take the Coriolis effect into account (conservation of angular momentum) we could conceive of how a westerly jet stream could come about. Now of course this is overly simplistic and could therefore be construed as bull shit, but hang with me. All I'm try to say is that there are winters where the jet is too far to the north of the Tetons (too little energy difference) and winters where the jet can split up or go south of the Tetons (too much energy difference). In December, January, and so far in early February we've got that energy difference just freakin' right. Remember too that the jet is constantly changing in magnitude and direction, so I am mostly speaking in a time-averaged sense. So I don't know if it was the warm summer at the mid latitudes, the fact that an anomalous ridge blasted the heat throughout all November, or the fact that a mild la Nina (really a la ninita or something smaller that a tiny la nina) cooled the eastern pacific from the monster el Nino last winter, but it was probably all or none of these factors that led to our current situation.

Massive propagation on a S facing slope.

What's all this crap I'm hearing about atmospheric rivers? Well an atmospheric river is band of moisture that extends from the tropics to western North America. These events can account for over 70% of the total precipitation areas like the Sierras, which sorta explains why it snows like 3 times a year there but dumps 10 feet each time. These events bring "alien-like" air to the mid-latitudes, meaning the air carries a relatively warm temperature and ridiculous amounts of water vapor. Thus these systems are not necessarily baroclinic low pressure systems, and orographics play a dominant role in who gets the precipitation. Atmospheric river events happen each year, but off the top of my head I can think of at least four major events this season which is pretty high for early February.  If an atmospheric river can penetrate into the inter-mountain west, the snake river plane can help channel the flow, dropping copious amounts of SWE in the Snake River Range, the Winds, the Gos Ventre's, and areas of the Wasatch (after California, Oregon and southern Washington get slammed). These events are a large reason as to why this winter has been so ridiculous

Integrated water vapor transport, reeeaaal moist right now

So whats in store for the rest of the winter? Who the fuck knows. After the weekend the GFS is predicting a rather large ridge to set up over the western US. This ridge looks kinda similar to what transpired in November. However, the GFS predicts that the ridge should break down by around the 20th. If that's the case, then we could use a week long break before the snowpocalypse continues, but I don't want to see a month of dry weather. We will just have to see. Right now Teton pass, snake river canyon, and Hoback canyon are all closed due to avalanches. JHMR has been without power since Tuesday due to winds, and they aren't planning to open until Monday the 13th. The god damn roof over Sears collapsed in Jackson due to too much snow. So the week long break should be nice if the rain and warming temps don't flood the place too much. My advice is to take advantage of this winter, because we probably won't see one like it for 10 or more years if this crap continues.

Also I should note that my favorite log ride on Teton pass collapsed due to snowfall, and I've been riding that thing since at least 2010.

A whole lotta this crap has been going on this season...

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Death Canyon

On Saturday Eric and I toured up Death Canyon to have a looksie at the Apocalypse couloir. When we rolled out of the car at the Death Canyon track there were two other cars with people inside. I should go back and add that when we were near the airport (en route), the supposed temperature was negative 27 degrees, and since Eric's car doesn't have a thermometer we could not confirm or deny that number. However, just after we rolled up the other two cars left and we are guessing it was because they didn't like what they saw on their car thermometers. But who gives a shit about the weather anyways? Not Eric and I.

First view of the lower apocalypse from phelps lake overlook

After I got my boots on and started moving from the car I began to instantly regret my decision to not wear tights underneath my pants. I kept at least one hand balled up in a glove for the first 30 minutes or so, and I skinned all the way into death canyon wearing a puffy to keep my core temperatures up. Turns out negative thirty is fucking cold. Our first view of the chute allowed us to see that it was filled in through the choke, but the ribbon of snow between the ice and rock looked really thin. We would have to wait and see.

Eric getting ready to ascend after digging a pit.

We dug a pit on the skiers left side of the apron, and even though we found some quality shears our ECT yielded zero results. The main hazard seemed to be the spin drift coming off of the walls of Prospector, and there was clear evidence that the chute had been sloughing regularly since the last storm cycle. Just as we prepared to skin towards the mouth a small slough came off from a high point on the alien wall, just like that scene in The Revenant. 

Headed towards the ice flow and the mouth of the couloir.

Once we got to the main ice flow on skiers right we took off our skis and began booting, wary of slough from above. Luckily this face is barely in the sun this time of year, and I'm sure the temps helped to keep things nice and locked up. The booting was mostly supportable, with some funky mixes of shallow slab and hard slough piles thrown in.

Eric leads the way up to the choke after we put on some crampons

When we got to the narrows we decided to call it. The top of the choke looked to be about 160 cm wide from the flow of the ice to the rock wall on the skier's left, and about 100 ft below that their was a 10 inch thick slab of one finger hardness sitting on more water ice. Probably skiable with some tomfoolery, but we weren't looking for too much excitement on this day. We put on our skis and descended around 1 pm, back into the frigid air of lower Death Canyon. 

Eric heading down from our high point.

The skiing on the way down was a variable mix of breakable crust, unbreakable slough slab, and old debris piles that had set up nicely. The apocalypse definitely has some of the most water ice I have seen on the east side of the Tetons. 

Pulling even with Eric on the way down

Once we got back to the apron we had a nice view of the cathedral buttress, where some of the better multi-pitch climbs in the Tetons reside. 

Cathedral buttress. I think the Snaz is in their somewhere...

Even though we didn't get what we were after I was glad to check out a place I have been meaning to come to for quite some time, and I also have to admit that I was psyched to get back to a warm truck.

Eric on the way down the apron.

On the climb back up the moraine by Phelps lake Eric suggested that if I wanted a real treat I should lick my whippet. Turns out I am just as dumb as that kid in the Christmas story and Lloyd Christmas. For I split second I really thought my tongue was going to be stuck, but I pulled hard and fast, leaving a nice coating of skin on the tool. Fool me once Eric, shame on you. 

Lick your whippet he said. It will be fun he said. 

Teton Pass

Ever since finishing up my fall semester and some ski patrol duties I have been afflicted with a serious case of obsession. It has all revolved around the skiing mecca that is Teton Pass, and for the last couple weeks I have been harvesting the goods brought forth from the winter solstice driven tropical instability wave that so often plasters the southern end of the Teton range around Christmas time. Prior to 1/8/2017 temperatures have been cold enough to bless the pass with snow densities that are a bit below average, and the procession of storms hasn't really stopped since the very end of November. Snow depths in the Rendezvous Bowl plot were the 2nd deepest ever at the end of December, only to the winter of ninety sick ninety heaven. After an abysmal November this winter has really turned the corner in a huge way.

Woodpecker has been going HAM

Since December 20 I have logged 15 days on the pass, all of them on the west side. Besides an ascent of Taylor and a few of Oliver I have pretty much been sticking to my guns and playing in the Mail Cabin drainage.

My Daddy coming up moose brush

I have definitely noticed an increase in skier traffic on the pass in my short lifetime, and some have gone as far as to compare it to a ski area of sorts. The ease of access is almost unmatched at any other backcountry center in the Northern Rockies, and there is also the allure of "skier compacted" slopes and preset skin tracks to alleviate the threat of avalanches and tired quads. However, there is just no denying that the pass acts as a natural funnel for snowfall, and some of the best powder skiing in the Northern Rockies is to be found in its protected glades and low elevation bowls.

Playing picaboo with mama moose. It's too bad we are sort of running these creatures out of their preferred habitat to go skiing. 

While it wasn't my very first backcountry experience (that one goes to the Taos backcountry) , the pass has made up the bulk of backcountry skiing in my life as far as days spent ski touring. The terrain of the Tetons and Snake River ranges were tailor made for skiing, and the south side may be the best meadow skipping in the known universe, despite the crowds.

Getting above the inversion on Oliver

One thing I have noticed for sure this year is that skiers are dispersing a little better to the lower elevation areas of the pass and I have to think that part of this is due to the series of guide books that Tom Turiano is putting out. 5 years ago almost no one parked at the weigh station, and now during a busy week this access point is seeing some use. I also think that I am seeing more out of state vehicles parked in the Coal Creek lot than there used to be. All in all I think this expanded use is a good thing, and in the future I wouldn't mind seeing a voluntary (or mandatory) parking fee for vehicles similar to the system in place at many boat ramps on the Snake River (But maybe not as restrictive as Rogers Pass). The money can go towards avalanche forecasting, parking lot plowing, and just general maintenance and education. 3 dollars a day with a 50 dollar season pass option seems trivial in the face of 150 dollar lift tickets at nearby ski areas. 

Weston gets trenched in Mail Cabin

This winter is really shaping up to be a good one for the Tetons, and right now the GFS and other models are not signalling any real signs of it slowing down for the month of January. It could be two thousdand sickteen two thousand heaventeen.

Weston going across the log ride

With the Tetons, the Snake Rivers, the Gros Ventre, the Big Holes, and a multitude of other snowy ranges within a 2 hour radius, the winters in Teton Valley are pretty hard to beat. We will just ignore Canada and their mountains for now.

Sun on the shoulder of the diving board

As I usually do around Christmas time, I have been playing around with my go-pro trying to capture some of the pow skiing that has been taking place. Below is a poorly edited sampling of some of my favorite runs of the season so far.

  

Hatchet jack from Jackson Knoll on Vimeo.

The Miracle Mile

Yesterday was one of those fishing days that will live on in infamy in my mind. Especially because I was alone, and I only have my own thoughts and a handful of photos to confirm what transpired.

First fish of the trip, 2nd or 3rd cast. Everything else would be gravy, or so I thought

The plan was to drive to the Miracle Mile and fish through Thursday, then camp and fish a little in the morning Friday and then check out below Pathfinder. When I finally got to the Mile around 130 pm I did some glassing and spotted some fish from the road before I chose to rig up. The first fish I caught was a beautiful male brown, the reason I drove out to the middle of nowhere. I have fished the Mile a handful of times and this was the nicest fish I had gotten so far, so the trip was made. I caught a handful of cookie cutter 16 inchers and then got a rainbow for dinner. The fishing made me think that I would stay the next day instead of going over to Fremont Canyon. I had no idea what I was in store for.

Camp meat. Hatchet Jack

The next morning I awoke to frigid temps in the teens and about an inch or two of snow. I tracked a cottontail from the tent and wished I had a small game license for Wyoming. I then walked up from camp and spotted a big brown, maybe 2 feet long. I ran back to camp and grabbed my rod but didn't put waders on. Just as I got back to the spot, 3 dudes piled out of a rig towing a raft. It was 7 a.m. at the latest and fucking cold out, so these guys were hard core. They seemed to be about my age and I talked to them to make sure it was cool that I go after the fish I saw. They were very polite, said no problem, and we all fished the run together. They were hooking up left and right, and I had to keep my focus on the single fish I was after, staged above a redd in the tail out. I hooked him, but iced guides and frigid fingers failed me on the set, and he was off in seconds.I knew it was maybe the biggest fish I would see that day, but I had to walk away, get waders on and go check out a spot I was dying to get back to (I had a bit of a misadventure to this spot in the spring). Boy did I make the right choice.

Tank of a bow. Some of the rainbows in the system are of the eagle lake strain and spawn in the fall

The grass was so much greener on the other side, and not many thoughts entered my head as I fished a pegged worm and a white sex dungeon to a multitude of large fish that rarely see an anglers pressure. I almost broke my ankle at least 4 times running after big fish as they peeled into my backing.

One of the coolest gill plates I've seen.

I probably ended the day with 15 or more fish over 20 inches, with 2 in the 26-27 range and a handful of two footers. Little to no moon, a cold front, and a shaded aspect all likely played a role in the spectacle. That and pure focus on catching fish for 6 hours with no thought of food or drink, only iced guides, broken off tippet and flies, and frozen reels.

The somewhat ugly face of an old warrior that's been caught a few times in her life. Thickness

An absolute beast, eye of the tiger.

It's too bad my lens was foggy for this guy, one of the cleanest and most jaw-dropping browns I've ever fooled

Shaka Bra! So many studs

I was blown away by the condition of the fish that I was catching. Some were spawned out, but I also caught some females that had not dropped a single egg yet. It is interesting to note in the systems that have fall/winter spawning rainbows that many of the browns spawn late as well. I watched a redd where a male rainbow and a male brown competed over a single female brown the day earlier.

The pink spots on this beast seamed to glow. Shoulders!

My shit got pretty frozen

The auto-focus sort of fucked up this selfy. Pretty nuts to watch this guys and others go airborne after getting hooked

I love this country, if it were't for the vibes I would never come back enough to dial in the fishing

When I close my eyes all I see are brown trout.

Thanksgiving Recap

Anticipation was high for this year's Thanksgiving Break. Fall chose to pass over the front range, and a few days before departing for Idahome I was climbing in Eldorado canyon complaining of the 80 degree temperatures that were trying to grease me off of the wall. However, a change was coming to the front range, and a winter storm was dropping out of the NW the night I decided to gun it to Driggs. I left my house in Boulder around 5 p.m. and arrived home around 2:30 a.m. It was full on wintertime conditions once I got past Pinedale, but other than that the drive was uneventful. Time was passed listening to a JRE with Graham Hancock and Randall Carlson where they talked about ancient civilizations and the meteor strike  hypothesis explaining the Younger Dryas period. I had pre-brewed an intense pot of joe before the drive and while I was tweaking on energy drinks and coffee I could not help but think that a gawd damn meteor was going to ruin my Thanksgiving Break before I was able to fish my beloved South Fork.

Luckily I awoke late Thursday morning to a cloudy sky and some lingering snow showers, and by 2 p.m. I was heading over pine creek pass on a recon mission. My plan was to fish the damn, but I stopped at huskies to check the water level and clarity. Everything seemed good to go, maybe a tad low for what I like this time of year. As I crossed the new bridge below the damn (possibly hurt the fishing there but that's a story for another time), I spotted a contingency of mallards soliciting downstream. I parked on the south side of the bridge, applied waters, donned the ol' 12 gauge and crept through the willows on the NW bank. All of the ducks spooked immediately before I got within range, reminding me that migratory birds can be more weary than big game some times. As the flock went north a small group peeled off and headed back my way, flying directly overhead. As the words "I don't think that's too far" escaped my mouth a bang occurred, followed by silence and the soft thud of the crumpled drake hitting the ground. 1 for 1.

After I collected the duck I waded up to the damn to do some fishing. I didn't see much in the way of brown spawning activity (maybe once the water hits 1000 cfs they head for deeper parts), but did manage a few cutties on a nymph rig. Before coming up to Idaho I had made a goal to try and capture or kill dinner everyday I was up there, something that is more difficult for me to do in the heavily populated front range.  I didn't get any keeper rainbows, so I would have to settle for a solitary duck for dinner.

On Friday I met up with my good buddy Eric to do some grouse hunting. Once again I found myself going over Pine Creek pass to meet up with him in Swan Valley. Some dude was in his favorite spot (not hunting, just walking his huge dogs, surely with the intent of sabotaging our plans), so we headed out from a different trail, mostly catching up and shooting the shit. We gained some pretty good vert, but we didn't see any birds or grouse sign, just a bunch of elk and moose tracks in the fresh snow. We decided to abort our original plan and headed back down towards the South Fork. We spotted a drainage with a closed jeep trail, and on a whim we decided that this would be the starting point of our next grouse conquest. After about an hour Eric located the partially decomposed body of a fawn whitetail, and about 20 minute after that we both spotted what we were looking for. A ruffed grouse about 7 feet off the ground in a deciduous shrub, head bobbing and weaving like somebody trying to see whats going on from the back of the line. I alerted Eric, he informed me he saw it too, and instructed me to kill the bird. I walked up until I was about 25 yards from the bird, and just when it looked like he might spook I raised my 28 gauge and fired. Feathers flew, but the bird remained perched, so I shot a little higher, and he dropped out of the tree. 2 for 2.

At that point Eric was underneath the bush, closing in on the kill like a freakin bird dog. I muttered something about "how you rarely see just one 1 year old bird by itself" and I that point I spotted my bird's likely kin. He was about 7 feet to right of the one I just killed, same height in the same bush. How we missed him I have no idea. As I reloaded my gun my instinct told me to shoot immediately, but then I pondered the future condition of Eric's eardrums after the potential ordeal (since he was below and between me and the bird). I told Eric to quit looking for my bird and look up to his right. In less that 2 seconds that bird was dead and we walked out of the woods with a pair of ruffies. Dinner would be ruffed grouse, some of my favorite table fare.

Friday night my sister rolled into town and our plan was to float from Irwin to the bridge, our favorite float to do this time of year for spawning browns and pre-spawn rainbows. We rolled out of the house by 6:30 and we were getting set up at Irwin well before 8. No new snow meant I had to back the boat all the way down the slide as opposed to letting it race down on its own, but the slide was in better shape than I've ever seen it. After putting in the boat I noticed a bunch of no parking signs around the traditional parking on the side of the road, but I was convinced the rules did not apply to me. I waited until after we hit the back yard barbecue run to call in the shuttle. The day was moderately sunny, the fishing fantastic, and there was no one on the water yet. After a handful (or more) of merry go round drifts in the BYBBQ I decided to call Julie to set up the shuttle. She informed that the no parking signs were for real and they were trying to phase out the Irwin launch. She said she would run my shuttle (all the way to Conant) as fast as possible but more than likely I would have a 75 dollar ticket waiting for me on my sister's vehicle.

This information soured my mood slightly but the fishing was too good for any unhappy musings to last long. Someone was on one of our favorite holes by fall creek, but luckily Darby wrangled a handsomely built 20 incher right upstream. After a quick grip and grin we fished a spot river left of where I wanted to be, and probably 150 yards down stream. We tore it up in that spot as well, and we proceeded down to Conant, with surprisingly little activity between the bridge and the takeout. Above the ramp I filleted the four rainbows we decided to keep (dinner again!) and we recovered the shuttled vehicle, sans ticket! It was a good day; however, I am deeply saddened that they are phasing out the use of Irwin. Someone is conspiring against me to prevent easy access to the BYBBQ. I am sure it is the work of the two houses on the river there, and as soon as I finish school I am going to run for mayor of Irwin and make that shitty-ass boat ramp great again.

Saturday evening is when the rents showed up and our plan was to go grouse hunting with Dad the next day and try and hit the BYBBQ on Monday. We hit a few spots close to home in the Big Holes, but we only turned up one bird with no shooting opportunities. We then went over the pass (again) and hunted the zone Eric and I went a few days prior. Right near where Eric and I got our birds my sister informed me that she saw a squirrel. I had my 22 pistol and was keen to get dinner, feeling as though we were running out of time with the grouse. As I worked my way over to her we heard a shot behind us, and then we could hear my Dad praising Butterball for retrieving the bird. Meanwhile my focus was on the pine squirrel who had corkscrewed to the top of a rather large Doug fir. What transpired next will surely be chronicled in Knoll family lore until the meteor hits. I set my 28 gauge down and drew my pistol. I could see the head of the squirrel and nothing else, probably about 70 feet up in the tree. I was about 10 yards away from the base and on the uphill side. I drew up on his head and fired, watching in disbelief as the critter tumbled out of the tree. My sister started busting up laughing in complete disbelief, and I soon joined in. 3 for 3. In the past I have missed grouse at less than 10 yards with this pistol, so I'm a pretty crappy shot with one. But I had done it, secured another meal.

After walking out we realized we still had 2.5 hours of light left, and we went to a spot closer to the reservoir, near where Eric and I initially went. My Dad said he remembered a spot he used to see birds, but sometimes he doesn't remember a whole lot so I wasn't too confident. When we found the spot there was a closed road for gravel and snow berries every where, so I knew we would see something with 3 people and the 2 dogs. Sure enough, an hour later we were head back to the trail head with 4 more grouse and echos of my father rambling about his "secret" spot. We should have had at least 2 more, and I missed 2 shots, ruining the perfect streak. Dinner that night was awesome as squirrel and grouse are some of the finest small game you can eat. As my buddy Kevin Murphy once said on a MeatEater podcast "Squirrel is the most mildest meat you can eat." And as my good buddy Eric likes to say "Blam Blam we eaten' ham."

The following day we went Huskies (not Irwin) to the bridge with my father, who has not had the opportunity to do that float this time of year since the BYBBQ really came to fruition (last 3 years or so). It was about 36 degrees and rainy the whole day, so great fishing weather but our hands didn't work too good. Nonetheless it was great fishing, with my father getting near the 30 fish mark by 230 pm and plenty of rainbows for dinner. I think we ended the day with 6 doubles between my dad and sister, so you know it was good. Super glad he was able to experience that level of rainbow fishing before people catch on.

My sister's last fish of the day, if you look closely you can see my father's in the net below.

On Tuesday we had a late start and just me and dad went up the southfork road out of Heise to check out an old duck haunt and maybe catch a few fish. School was out for Thanksgiving and there were people up and down the river in the most likely spots but somehow no one was at the Cottonwood redds. We jumped out of the truck and started casting and before long we had 4 rainbows for dinner in less than an hour, with a handful of browns thrown in. There were as many fish as I've ever seen in that spot, so pressure doesn't seem to effect the quantity of fish there, but maybe the size as we didn't touch a 20 incher and I didn't spot any.

After the quick fish we took Butterball across the river in the canoe to hunt a "secret" side slough. When we pulled up the channel was full of ducks, and after sky blasting at a few that spooked (to no avail) we set up our decoys and waited. Nothing. Dead calm. A few came by but no shots were fired. Thankfully we had taken preventive measures with the fish or else we would have gone hungry that night.

The duck spot

On Wednesday we did some stuff around the house and then went out for a family grouse walk in the Palisades range with the whole family. We spooked one adult ruffy, but it did not provide any shots. We would have to eat some more fish, along with some pheasants that my father had got on a recent trip to North Dakota. The next day was Thanksgiving and as I packed up to head back to boulder I reminisced about the times had. It was the first Thanksgiving I had not skied in probably 10 years, but I didn't miss it. I knew this winter would provide endless opportunities for joy like she always does, and I was just happy to get back to my roots and do some meat gathering.

Lenticular on the drive home, outside of Rawlins