I can hear Jacob in the corner packing his things. I've been getting together our last bit of laundry to clean before we shove it in backpacks. At four am, tomorrow morning, we make our way home.
As always, we never get enough time here and it's always heartbreaking to head home. I guess maybe that means something when you're always sad to go home.
Our final adventure here was to the same place as our first. I think it's safe to say this little creek is so very special, to both of us.
I do most of my thinking with a camera around my neck, sitting on the bank, watching Jacob fish. While resting a pool and watching cutthroat swim about, I started really thinking about this little creek. About how many years we've been fishing it. How it never gets boring. How the beauty is always immeasurable. And how we can catch all the tiny brook trout and cutthroat we can stand.
Our last day, as with our first, and every day in-between, was no exception; we caught all the cutthroat. They came in every size and color variation imaginable, each eager to meet us for just a moment.
A storm started moving in. Reluctantly, we gathered our rods and headed out. Midway through our hike back to the car I turned around to take in the beauty on last time. I reminisced about this place and what all the river had given us this past month. I thought about all the people here and how they've opened their hearts and homes to us. Standing alone one this mountainside, I began to wonder, am I going home tomorrow or leaving the only home I've ever loved?
I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who helped to make this another incredible year! We love all of your dearly and can't wait to come back and do it again next year!
