Words by Mark Rauschenberger | Photos by @troutandtequila
My white Ford pickup with camper in tow pushes further and further into the dark, Wyoming night. With a couple hundred miles of highway behind us, the three of us seated inside look forward with great anticipation to the 72 hours of nothing but fishing that lies ahead. As the pavement turns to dirt, my road weary eyes sharpen to an incredible degree. We’re close; and I can feel it in my bones.
It’s the middle of November—as well as the middle of the night—and we’re on our way to what I consider the best place on earth. Our friend Jason had the good fortune of leaving the Front Range much earlier than we did and I hope he had the better fortune of securing our favorite camp site. As my truck and trailer rattle across the last set of washboards, I can see the bright lights of Jason’s camper beneath the big pine tree. So it is that our fall trip to Cowboy Country begins.
Before we know it, the morning sun creeps through the blinds of the camper and we slowly lumber to life for the first day at Trout Camp. Almost immediately, Brandon and Spencer fire up the griddle and pile it high with hash browns, sausage, peppers, and onions for what will shortly become breakfast tacos. Hastily, we all eat and begin rigging up for the day. Layers, waders, six weights with nymph rigs, and, last but certainly not least, a couple of Spey rods.
The river here is big and the angling crowd is small so we have myriad options as to where we may fish on this first morning. Just down the river, B&E hole could be a good choice given the likelihood of lake-run fish moving through the system. Further down, there are some incredible braids that weave their way through the high desert where we could spend our morning fishing among the sage and the pronghorns. We could even venture upriver into the teeth of the canyon and rock hop our way through some of the most beautiful fishing country I’ve ever seen. Collectively, we decide on the easiest option and start the day at Camp Hole, one of my favorites, that is just steps away from our front door. Vibes are at an all-time high on the way to the water.
No matter how the fishing pans out over the course of the next three days, one thing is incredibly clear: when you drag a group of friends to a magical place like this, the trip is as close to a sure thing as we’ll ever get. Over the course of the next few days, we’ll recount hilarious memories from trips passed, we’ll roast each other to near criminal degrees, we’ll share more than a few beers, and we’ll laugh and laugh for hours around the campfire. On a trip like this one, the fishing itself is nothing more than an ancillary part of the great adventure.
Nevertheless, we step into the river and prepare for our first casts …
