Counting Down

Five more days...

I have five more days in Casper, and then I won't see home (or, more importantly, my dog) for a full year. That idea hadn't really set in until just now. It makes this next adventure seem like a really big step away from everything I'm used to, everything I'm comfortable with...I'm not going to lie, it's a little bit scary.

For those of you who don't know (although if you have no idea what's going on I'm not really sure how/why you found this blog) I will be starting graduate school at the University of Edinburgh in approximately 3 weeks. I'm enrolled in a full year program with the ultimate goal being a Master's of Science in Applied Animal Behavior and Welfare. I'm not usually one for enthusiasm, but it's kind of a big deal. I'd get into everything that the degree covers, but to be honest I just don't want to right now. I want to enjoy the little time I have left in Wyoming. Maybe I'll find some time to pack in there too.

It was with that "make the most of Wyoming time" mindset that Chris (younger brother) and I decided we needed to do some fishing in a mountain lake or two. So last weekend we set off for the Bighorn range for a few days of brotherly bonding and (hopefully) a nice fish dinner. Of course things started going wrong within the first few hours of the trip - we got a little bit lost (turns out forest service roads are very rarely well marked), but even when we found our intended campsite at Upper Paintrock Lake, it was (for a still unknown reason) closed. Our second choice, Lower Paintrock, had no open campsites. Of course. But positive attitudes prevailed and we pitched the tent near (less) beautiful, nearby Medicine Lodge Lake.

Medicine Lodge

Now, objectively, there's nothing really wrong with Medicine Lodge Lake...that is unless you enjoy catching fish. Which, it turns out, the Jorgensen boys do. In a day and a half of solid fishing we managed to hook one fish (the only one in the lake as far as I can tell). It was a decent sized lake trout, and I managed to catch it early enough in the trip to inspire a bit of confidence in both Chris and myself. Big mistake. We didn't see another fish in or around Medicine Lodge for the rest of the trip. So our big plan for trout dinner fell through and we ended up with a dinner comprised of one lonely risotto, filled with disappointment and rainwater. Did I mention that it was raining? It was raining in the same way that Glenn Beck is crazy...which is to say that it was really coming down. And yes, we had spent a good portion of the storm out on a lake in a metal canoe. We were that desperate for fish. Now those of you who know me will be surprised to hear that I was still incredibly cheerful. It must be something about being in the mountains (perhaps the reduced oxygen available to my brain), because in most situations it takes significantly less to make me grumpy. Tomorrow would be a better day, we told ourselves. We'd pack up camp and get down to the Paintrocks and we'd sure as hell catch something.

Howdy Ma'am

Seems reasonable.

Well we wake up to a crisp, cool morning and get the campsite packed into the truck. Set our minds to positive thoughts. Put the key into the ignition. Click. Try again. Click click. Battery dead. We've reached a point in the trip when those good attitudes are proving difficult to maintain. Chris is desperately trying to fly fish into the wind from shore, I'm trying to warm myself up and convince myself that out camp neighbors will be back soon to give us a jump. So we wait, but it doesn't take long before the need for fish gets to be too strong - hell, we'll walk to the next lake if that's what it takes. So rods and tackle get pulled out, hiking boots go on and we head out, only to run into our neighbors on their way back from breakfast at the lodge.

From this point things go remarkably well. We get down to Lower Paintrock Lake, catch a whole mess of fish before the wind and cold force us off the water, and I celebrate the best way I know how.

Hooray Fish!

Not a bad trip all things considered.

So now my focus has to shift somewhat, towards figuring out all the logistics of packing for a move overseas. I should be more worried than I am, but what could I really need that I didn't have in the Bighorns? 

I think I'll be fine with a pair of clean underwear and a decent attitude. I can buy beer when I get there.