After the Storm

“Red Barn North?” said David H. “Absolutely!”

The question was trivial—we both knew the destination. It had been nearly a year since we made the trek up into the backcountry to fish. Inaccessible in the Wyoming winters, “Red Barn” is our code for the Bar BC Ranch.

The Bar BC was a dude ranch in the early 1900s. A friend of ours dubbed it “Red Barn” more than ten years ago, when he got lost and was trying to describe where he was. We located him within a couple of hours and resumed fishing.

Tuesday’s destination only began at the Bar BC. The real goal was a two-mile hike north—to the Corner Pocket and the thread of the Snake River that runs beyond. It was once accessible by car, but the road washed out, sliding a hundred feet down to the Snake. It was never repaired—likely because Grand Teton National Park had an obvious reason not to maintain it.

The “road” to the Bar BC parking area requires—not suggests—four-wheel drive. The gravel descent to the “parking” spot is littered with boulders and potholes big enough to lose a pony in.
Why go?

Unrivaled views of the Tetons. Then, four miles of prime Snake River access for fly fishing. Breathtaking.

That’s where we parked. Then we hiked two miles farther into the backcountry. You see, we want to go where most people don’t. Thus, the hike.

We hiked. We descended to the Snake River to one of my favorites: the Corner Pocket—a bend in the river that always holds fish. I drew the small straw (so to speak), which meant I fished the bank. Not much luck. A bit more hiking, and I spotted the bank I really wanted to fish. It was productive. My friend noticed and came over to join in.

It was a good day on the river.

Then we noticed a storm brewing. We were actually happy for the precipitation—it had been hot and dry for weeks. Hot for Wyoming, anyway. Highs near 80 degrees.

Then we saw lightning.

Time to start toward the car. Remember—we’re now nearly three miles from the truck. On foot.

I pulled out my raincoat, slightly annoyed—it was going to be hot with it on. Then the cold air hit us. Winds picked up. Gusts approached 50 miles per hour.

Then came the hail.

We were pelted by pea-sized hail, driven by wind. We ducked behind a couple of sage bushes, laughing at ourselves.

The whole storm lasted only about half an hour. We stood up as the rain stopped, laughed again, and resumed the hike to the truck. A few minutes passed. Still walking. The skies began to clear.

We were still walking.

“The rain might make the fishing better, cooling things down?” I said to my friend—fishing partner for the eleventh time in ten years.

“I was just thinking that!” he replied.

We laughed again. There was no doubt—we were going back to fish.

It would be a great story if it ended there. It didn’t.

The fishing was unbelievable. I caught several more, including one close to 18 inches—a very big Cutthroat.

David decided to take just one more cast. He’s a phenomenal angler. His final cast, just as the sun slipped behind the Tetons? You guessed it—he landed an 18-inch Cutthroat.

Spectacular day.

Moral of the story: “After the storm” can be truly spectacular—once you’ve weathered it.

Enjoy the day...R2