Trip Report: Best Friends in Pursuit of Brown Trout

fickle spring weather and the real reason for road trips

By Stio

June 14^th, 2017

WHERE: Somewhere between the desert and the San Rafael Swell

WHEN: April 22nd - 27th

THE CREW:

Becca Skinner, Photographer
Heidi River, Mother & Outdoor Enthusiast
August River, Junior Explorer

THE GEAR:

Alpha Alpine Pullover

Sidley Shirt

Azura Insulated Jacket

Kid's Hometown Down Jacket

Kid's Jackalope Beanie

Words & Photography by Becca Skinner

Trip Report: Best Friends in Pursuit of Brown Trout

I scour the map until I find where we are, and see the words “road impassable when wet” stamped across our exact location.

“Good thing we have a boat,” I laugh to myself.

I hear a muffled voice behind me. Turning around, a couple in a decked-out Jeep walk toward the map board. The man speaks up again, “Is there a lake around here?,” he asks, pointing to our boat with a confused look on his face.

“Um..no, I don’t think so,” I reply. “We’ve been driving for awhile.”

It was a fair question. We were in the middle of the Utah desert; a highway of BLM roads, connected by rock towers and bad cell service. We didn’t mean to end up here, but that’s what happens when you go through plan A, B and then C.

My best friend Heidi and her 4 yr old son, August and I had planned to fish the San Juan River in New Mexico- some of the best trout water in the States. This was Plan A. But after fishing for one day in freezing rain (which turned to snow) we opted for Plan B- go to the desert to find some warmer weather. I don’t know a lot of toddlers who are able to roll with the punches, but like a true adventurer, August was game to go anywhere.

We pulled onto a dusty, red BLM road, surrounded by jagged rocks and photogenic cliffs. Jeeps and vans with high clearance, emergency supplies and extra tires passed us as we (slowly) hauled the truck and boat throughout the landscape, looking seriously out of place while trying to find a sufficient spot to park our 40ft-long outfit. We finally found a camping spot with minimal ruts and went for a quick hike before cooking dinner.

Storm clouds started to move in as we put groceries away and Heidi and I nervously looked at each other as we settled into the back of the truck for the night.

At 7am, I woke to the wind rocking the car and hard rains pounding the windshield. “Heidi” I said while shaking her out of sleep, “we should get out of here ASAP.” Within the hour we were up, coffee made, car packed and on our way out. We pulled away from our campsite, boat in tow, narrowly escaping the deep muddy ruts of what we feared would soon be a completely washed out road.

I looked at our Utah map while Heidi drove the bumpy roads back to the highway. We decided on a Plan C: nest up for the night somewhere in the San Rafael Swell. Having spent time there before, I remembered it as warm, sunny and having plenty of land to explore.

We started down yet another BLM road that wound us into the Swell. As August napped in the back seat, I kept pointing out potential camping spots.

“Look at that one! Don’t you want to wake up there?”

Heidi replied, “Yeah, if only we weren’t pulling a boat and had to make a 72 point turn to get out of there, it’d be perfect.”

Another spot appeared around a sharp corner. “Ooooohhh Heidi, look at that camping spot!” I pointed to a phenomenal parking spot- big enough to park AND turn around.

“That spot is awesome but it’s surrounded by drop-off cliffs on all sides. Not conducive to a 4 year old that wants to ride his bike. But I think we are getting closer!”

By the time we found a suitable spot, we were 20 miles back on the road and hadn’t seen a car in an hour. The seclusion and scenery were beautiful but despite our attempt to find warmer weather, it was actually colder than when we left New Mexico. Nevertheless, we put on all our layers and went for a late afternoon hike, gloves and all.

I shot photos until dark and as the sun slipped away, so did the feeling in my toes. We were camped at 7,000ft in the desert and we had all of our layers on by the time we were ready to climb into our bed in the truck.

When the sun peaked over the cliffs in the morning, the frost slowly retreated from the windows. It was time to head in the direction of home.

August played with his cars in the dirt, zooming them over tree branches and rocks while we ate breakfast, talking about what else we could fit in before heading back to Jackson.

Though it wasn’t the dream fishing trip we imaged, we were able to visit new places and got to explore some of the earth’s coolest playgrounds. In my opinion, the best part of road trips is the conversations you have and what you stumble upon on the way.