Last Weekend

The first nights arrival was very late at night and to crystal clear skies. The skyline presence brought comfort as well as solice. An escape from light pollution and the sprawl of suburbia was complete and sitting in awe of all around bliss at 8,900-ish feet was breathtaking.
The morning came briskly with equal ability to take ones breath. Countered with coffee following just behind the frigid air. The river swept past the camp with deafening silence presenting countless opportunities within plain sight. The browns forces were out in numbers, yet their size seemed to shrink over the week. Lots of smaller fish were brought to Brodin, hand and before Cannon. Some other big fish stopped in to make an appearance as well but did so with far less frequency.Day two brought wind and even cooler weather. Less time on the water and again less fish. It took some time for the temperatures to allow even the slightest movement. Locked into the warmth and security of a warm sleeping bag kept time moving slowly. The days adventure ended early but the hospitality offered lingered on. It was both unforgettable and uncalled for, spoiled by friends. Venison chops, venison pasta, coffee, bagels, bananas, and a warm spot to enjoy them on. The sun set and the last night began. Layed down with a book surrounded with the sounds of rain and thunder pattering and smashing against the shell of the truck on night number 3. The thermometer read 38 degrees. Time passed slowly with each flash of lightning and lingering roll of thunder. The pages continued to turn and the temperature proceeded to drop. Within the hour the thermometer read 26 degrees, time to bundle up. A reading of 22 degrees and the rain transitioned to ice and then followed by snow. Eyes drifting, pages closing, sleep commencing. The ice and snow mixture over night along with a 16 degree temperature fluctuation in the downward fashion formed a familiar New England styled layer of ice over everything making it impossible to go outside until the sun decided that it was time to start the day and that the ice may melt. Up early and nearing time to head home; the weather had great success in pushing everyone on down the road and closer to home. The gear was packed, salutations exchanged, and it was time for departure. Yoda was going home, done camping for the year.
Snow is a sign of new life, a new season, of old friends and particular habits. It felt as though the road was coming up through the rear view, as though looking back for something to come into the future ahead...