Encampment River, Wyoming

After a brief but long trip to Denver in Colorado to swap hire cars, I returned to Wyoming in the south east corner of the state with the North Platte River my goal. The North Platte is one of Wyoming's world famous trout rivers but one look at it - high and flowing fast - made me decide to fish one of its tributaries instead. I may yet get back to the North Platte a little later this month or next when it should be lower. 

I camped on the banks of the Encampment River and fished it over two days, catching browns and some stunningly coloured rainbows. The river begins its life in Colorado and flows north into Wyoming, through the northernmost range of the Southern Rocky Mountains. This part of Wyoming is semi arid desert, very similar in appearance to the Karoo of home, and it was somewhat different to catch trout amongst the dry scenery of open slopes, sagebrush and prickly cacti. Garter snakes lined the trail next to the river and I wondered if there were rattlesnakes about. 

A first brown trout was soon followed by another, fooled by a big, bushy dry fly. Their anal fins were etched in white and rather than the more typical red, their flanks were adorned in tangerine orange spots.

The rainbow trout I caught from the Encampment River were beautifully coloured and densely spotted. Like the brown trout the tips of their anal but also pelvic fins were white, as if they'd been dipped in a tin of paint. The water was cold and it meant the trout were especially feisty.

A trail followed the river for many miles upstream into the Encampment River Wilderness. If I had possessed more time, I'd have loved to have hiked a substantial way upriver and camped in the wilderness for a few nights, on the lookout for the remnant signs of the area's mining history. On the first afternoon, I didn't walk very far, but on the second morning I ventured several miles from the campsite and the houses near it. I saw the occasional hiker on the trail and ran into other fishermen, but only in the vicinity of the camp.

I couldn't recall ever seeing rainbow trout with such lustrous gill plates and flanks of watermelon pink.

The weather soured a little on the second day when a brisk wind brought in a blanket of clouds and the temperature cooled. The wind buffeted across the treeless land, and the thin corridor of trees growing in the margins of the river offered scant protection. 

It was at the camp site that I met a great character, a man in his sixties from Kansas who used to be known as Norman but now goes by Norm. He shortened his name when he gave up his old life and material things, telling me that Norman is far too boring a name. Norm Crisp. We drank red wine from camping mugs while Norm told me about his life, his lost love, his many nomadic travels and his happiness. Two kindred spirits with the same passion for fly fishing and travel wanderlust. Norm told me with evident delight, more than once, how he'd thrown a snowball at a monkey in Morocco, and I could imagine his transformation from staid research scientist to jocular thrower of snowballs at monkeys. 

Norm's eyes lit up when he spoke, his earring probably acquired at the same time he lost the two letters from his name. Norm is in the process of writing a book about his life and I will look out for it. I fetched out my map of Wyoming and Norm circled the rivers and creeks where I could achieve Wyoming's famous 'Cutt Slam' (more of that to follow). Without this info I would have been a little lost in the adventures to follow in Wyoming. 

I enjoyed my brief time in the rural backwater of Encampment.