*sorry for the
lapse between updates on the fishing expedition. I guess I got a little sidetracked mourning the end of summer as I know it and prepping myself for my annual immersion back into the world of working for a living.
...The next morning we awoke early and drove through the day towards base camp and the promise of endless strikes of the cutthroat trout that we had traveled hundreds of miles and hour after hour of road to feast upon. It was July 3rd and I looked forward to celebrating the fact that my forefathers had fought to win my freedom and independence. Unfortunately, not everyone saw things my way, i.e. this freedom hating asshole.
As darkness began to fall some of the towns of Southwest Montana got a head start on the 4th of July celebrations that the rest of our nation would be celebrating the next day. The drive was beginning to get long but I had fishing poles, a gun, plenty of ammo, and enough fireworks to destroy any structure I could build with sticks and fill with G.I. Joes. Nothing could get to me.
When the sun came up the next morning we finally came across the landmark that assured us that we had reached the final checkpoint to our destination.
After five days Bridge Lake laid only a short ten miles away. Uphill. With over 60 pounds strapped to our backs. And through some other circumstances that we could have easily came across if we had not left on our voyage from North Texas to Montana with 35 minutes planning. Unfortunately we'd learn these details 9 1/2 miles later.
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