all you can jet 2 - day 7 - denver, CO

we lay around and watch a little TV since it's the only break we'll get once we start goin'.

first stop is the cafe by the river.  my brother has his favorite stand-by, french toast; i have an omelet (i shot a pic of it, but can't find it on my drive).  as always, the food is great -- the service comfortable (although, as throughout our lives when in WY, we get stared at the entire breakfast by two older local men).

then a couple of things for you, dear reader.

first, a shot of the hotspring ... we'll stop by here later tonight, but it's easier to get a pic now during the day.

and you have to LOVE saratoga, WY for this, if no other reason: the "hobo pool" is free and open 24/7, 365 days per year.  there's a toilet, shower and changing room, all attached.  i donate $5 every year to the upkeep of this place:

i have something else to show you ...

just north of saratoga you can clearly see the scars left by the wagon wheels on the overland trail.

this exact spot would have been a pretty damn happy place for travelers to reach because you're much less than a day's worth of travel -even by wagon- to the N platte river from here (the only river in N america that flows to the north).  there are several crossings not far from here.  

if you poke around the trail and the associated river edges you can still find bits and pieces of lost/off-cast material -- especially fabrics and (for some weird reason) pieces of coffee pots.  and here's a trivium most people don't know: well over 85% of all people who came across the overland trail eventually returned back east.

my relatives on my mom's side didn't come this way.  we were irish immigrant labor, and by default, railroaders ... in fact, we didn't make it this far west until about the 1930's ... my great grandfather was made section foreman of tie siding, WY -- the first section east of laramie -- and camped permanently by default on the WY high desert.

it may not be immediately obvious, but this is a damn foreboding place.  

right here today is about as good as the weather gets -- 70 degrees and slight wind with no rain.  however the winters are brutal, the summers can fluctuate between smoldering hot and night-biting cold.  to give you an idea of what can befall you, a freak summer storm cost one family friend their life and another their legs.  wind is a near-constant and can polish rocks to a fine patina.

the tenacity of people crossing and surviving here is huge.  i'd also add that none of them were probably full-to-the-brim smart.

our target is a set a beaver dams stuck in the middle of the plains here.  the drive out shows the wildlife still in very good stead ... this is the sweet spot of the largest antelope herd on earth and in many ways, this is the N american answer to the serengeti ... i have never passed through this part of the world without seeing large wildlife -- always antelope, often deer and in the higher realms, elk.

two are obvious ...
... but can you spot the third antelope in this photo?

we're one week into hunting season, so the game are pretty spooky, but they're there.  we see probably 50 head on the way to the new place.  i stopped on a high spot to take this panoramic series.  (you can tell it's hunting season, it's really really crowded out here right now.)

these photos give some hints to the true nature of the landscape ... if you look at it from the sky it's actually a striated series of river and glacial valleys.  nearly all of those that have water of any kind also have beavers and that is our fishing specialty -- the water contained in beaver dams. 

the new place

it's my understanding that hardcore fisherman consider it to be some of the very hardest water you'll ever fish -- because it's very difficult to cast without making your presence known.  however, it's quite literally the way we were raised.

in gambling parlance an over/under bet is a point total that, in theory, would divide the betting action in half ... 50% of bettors would think the point total would be less, 50% would think it would be more.  i ask my brother, "so what do you think the over/under for us combined here today is?"

"well, let's see.  we'll probably hit the water about 3:00.  we'll have to leave about  5:00.  we'll put you on the good spot and i'll take pictures for about half an hour.  i'd say ... 45."

i think about it.  we talk about it a bit.  i pick over.  remembering that we've caught two fish between us in the last two days of fishing.

due to lollygagging and side explorations, we end up hitting the water about half an hour later than we'd planned.  my intent is to photograph every fish i catch, so i rig a piece of fishing line around my neck to hold my camera.  having to handle a slimy/live/kicking fish, an antique fly rod and a digital camera with no hand strap -- in the middle of a beaver dam up to my knees in fine grain mud and waist in 60 degree water -- is just asking for trouble ... but it's worth the effort.

in the amount of time it takes me to get everything set up in a way that i think i have the greatest chances for success, my brother has already caught seven.  he's also had first time on the water which will make my catching slightly more difficult -- even though i'm headed to what we know already know to be is the best spot.

in fairly short order i catch my first:

but the combo of shooting pix and having any chance of releasing my fish alive and having my camera come back functional is pretty small.  i decide not to photograph any more, with the exception of the biggest one of the day, just to give you a comparison.

these are brook trout, by the way.  there are also some albinos in here (my brother ends up catching two during the day) and i've had rainbows out of here before as well, although we don't see any today.

90 minutes of furious fishing and i catch 26 from the best spot.  my brother wanders back and forth between here and a larger dam below that has the ability to grant much larger fish.  

his total?  39.  between us we catch 65 in 90 minutes.  

and in a rarity, i decide to keep one for you, dear reader.  

why?

because i'm going to cook it on my car engine.

preparation is simple.

* clean the fish.

* coat it in bisquick.  (in this case i use betty crocker cornbread and muffin mix because i'll have to throw less away.)

* wrap in tin foil.

* store in center console until you're on smooth pavement.

* wire to exhaust manifold once the bumpy roads are gone.

there's nothing in the rental contract that says you can't cook on the engine

as we head back into saratoga i come across the largest flock of sage chicken i've ever seen -- there are at least six ... but b1-67er scares 'em to flight after i whip the car to a stop and before i can get my camera out.  they belong on the endangered species list, but for political reasons aren't being included.  a sighting like this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime -- thrilling to see it.

we take a quick dip in the springs to shake off the cold water shivers, then make the push to denver international airport.  our timing is such that i should be able to walk out of the rental car and onto the plane -- as long as there's nothing weird along the roadway.

after about an hour we check the trout, but it's not done enough.

no problem, we'll give it another hour.

the sun gets ready to set ...

... and we check the fish again.  it's not getting hot enough, so we move it off the exhaust manifold and onto the valve cover.  

while i'm driving, my brother does a series of time-lapse shots with my camera.

we stop and shoot off our firecrackers.  they're great, just as black cats should be, and the gunpowder smell lifts my already jubilant mood (of course).

... but that's about ready to get ripped from my being ...

we check the fish again AND IT'S A DISASTER.  

the engine isn't getting hot enough to cook the fish ... something i find bordering on the unimaginable.  i've done this, probably, a dozen times in my life ... (dr. bob and karpov both consider it their favorite way to prepare blackened catfish) ... the thing you have to watch out for is an engine that gets too hot -- not one that's not getting hot enough.  goddammit.

that little bastard brookie died in vain.  in vain!

i un-wrap it and leave it for the skunks just south of ft. collins, CO.

we shoot down i-25 and drop me at the airport.  as planned, i walk out of the rental, through security and on the plane.

excluding the non-heating engine, it's been a very very good day.  

i hook back up with my accomplice tomorrow.  we're staging in DC before colombia.

which means it's time to breathe in.