There’s a creek about a half-hour from my house. It’s not the kind of fishery you’d ever plan a trip around, but it has tons of browns and rainbows that are happy to eat a well-presented fly. Most of the fish are 10-13 inches long, but the rainbows get deep bellies, and I’ve spooked a few nice browns. It’s the sort of creek that’s dependable, but not easy, so you never feel like you have it quite figured out. It’s probably the ideal fishery to have close to home, when you need to run to the river for an hour or two to clear your mind.
That creek was one of the main draws for moving to this corner of Wyoming. I loved the idea of a trout fishery so close, on top of the two tailwaters and half-dozen freestones within a two-hour radius. That’s not counting the lakes and streams in the high country, either. This hasn’t been the perfect place to live – almost every winter we’ve lived here has hit 30 below zero – but it’s hard to beat how centrally located it is for so many good fisheries.
Last week our house went under contract a lot quicker than we expected. We have to be out next week, which means my time to spend on the creek is quickly dwindling. I went up a couple days ago, mostly to see how bad runoff was. The day was crisp, cooler than normal, and the water was low and clear. I’m not sure we’ll see much, if any, runoff this year, but I always err on the side of caution.
I fished for a bit, hitting some of the usual spots where I’ve found nice fish before. The trout weren’t in the mood to play, though, and as I worked my way upriver, I couldn’t keep the melancholy at bay.
It’s just a little creek, and there’s more where you’re moving to. You’ll be fine, I tried to convince myself.
It’s true. We’re moving to a different part of the state, closer to family and my day job, and of course, I picked the fishiest area we could afford. The few houses we’ve offered on fell through, so we’re homeless and actively looking, which means I get to pit stop at my in-laws in Salt Lake City for a while before we find the right place.
And that’s probably what has me so sad and reflective. I’m leaving a county with two stoplights for a city full of more people than live in all of Wyoming. I know it’s only temporary, but it’s hard to give up such great creature comforts – like the creek. Sure, I’ll be close to a grocery store, the doctor, and my daughter will get more time with her grandparents. But that hasn’t quite taken the sting out of leaving the creek, and all the other spots I haven’t fully explored yet.
I finished up that recent day on the creek without catching anything, but if I’m honest, I didn’t try that hard. It’s tough enough to leave the creek right now; if I had a banner day, I don’t know if I’d be able to actually load the moving truck and drive away. This part of the state is isolated and lonely enough, I don’t know if I’ll ever get back here. Sure, I go to more out-of-the-way places to fish, but this creek isn’t the sort to build a trip around, remember?
Or maybe it is.