Some days fishing is harder than others. The day started at 3am, and after a 2 hour drive I arrived at a spot to park my truck. But that was just the beginning as I still had a 2 hour hike ahead of me. This stream is in a canyon with no trail that follows near it. As the sun rose I struggled through the thick brush and bushwhacked further and further into the backcountry of the national forest. Finally I came to a point where getting to the stream seemed like it was feasible, and I started my 30 minute descent. While trampling through thicket and sliding on my butt down a steep mountain side I encountered bees twice. The first time I was stung a half dozen times on my legs, the second time they got me in the face, ear, and neck. Sweating, slipping, and cussing I finally had water in sight. After reaching the stream I sat it the cold mountain water for a moment to collect myself. While I was periodically dunking and holding my swollen face underwater I thought to myself…is this worth it? I got up, grabbed my fly rod, and said to myself yes.
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