Unreal

Last November I was alerted to a potential hot bed of fly fishing by Master Yoda.
We made a hasty plan to meet up around Pioneer Day... July 24 for you non-Utah persons.
I was not given any information about this spot other than it was East of Salt Lake. The fishing was amazing and that it was a small stream. Both Yoda & I prefer the small streams.
So when time came to throw down Izzy e-mailed me a map of no names, arrows, circles, mile markers, and FR road numbers. From this I deciphered where I was headed, and began to make plans to leave.
I didn't do any research into the area I was about to set forth upon. Yoda keeps this place very secret. While there he explained to me that to give the location of this spot to anyone else was to void the friendship we had created. In short he said; "you would be dead to me." (so don't ask)
Along with this he also dialed me into another creek that we will fish next year when his foot has healed. The bonus to all this was he dropped the beans on a few other choice spots here in Utah.
So, I packed my truck up for 6 nights of camping and fishing.
I didn't know the species of trout, the elevation, the terrain, the weather or anything at all about what I was getting into. Just location. I knew the secrecy Yoda holds this place in and I thought the less I knew the better. Even now, I still don't want to research the area. It was pristine and I want to keep that way. Ignorance will be my bliss.Therefore I truly was venturing into the unknown.
I left Salt Lake late in the evening and after stopping to get my out of state fishing license and food I arrived at the circle, circle, dot, dot, mile marker 45 on the map at about 5 am.
There on the FR road was a sign with an arrow pointing down with my name on it; my new home for a few days.
Drove down, parked and went to sleep in the back of my truck. With the sun about to break and the sky just turning a dull blue I passed out. It would not be long before the heat of the sun would wake me.
I awoke hot, sweaty, hungry, in desperate need of coffee and almost feeling rested. I was astonished to wake up to a breath taking canyon full of magnificent rock formations, thousands of aspens, so many different conifers, and a beautiful small stream.
What I would learn over the next few days was that this was very close to mecca, or at least a fly fishing paradise. The Holy Grail of spots. Not for size, but for the amount of fish, the cleanliness of the stream, and the miles the stream covered.
Now many people go after the big guns, I just like to catch fish... well trout.I caught more fish in 6 days than most people probably catch in a life time of fly fishing. I am not being cocky, I just happened to land an insane amount of fish. Also, one of the agreements and conditions of me fishing here with Yoda was that I had to pinch the barbs on my hooks and be barbless. Truth be told it was a blessing. I would not have caught nearly as many fish had I had a barbed hook.
The smallest fish measured in at just about double a Grumpy Frumpy, the largest being about 8-10"s.
It was not a matter of quality over quantity, or even quantity over quality.
It was a balance of small fish, pretty fish, remoteness, scenery, and an easy estimate of thousands of fish per mile of stream.
The final tally was just 7 Rainbows... and 582 Brookies. My best day was 189 fish in 180 minutes and totaled out at 201 for the day. That equates to 1 fish every minute and five seconds for three consecutive hours. With that type of action leaning to insanity I questioned the legality of catching so many fish. This just had to be illegal.
There is no doubt there will be a return trip next year.
As always in the end catching fish is just the bonus to the adventure, scenery and experience. The solitude and time to think was immense. So glad I brought some books along with me otherwise my little mind would have been going 100 different directions rather than the usual 20.