Yesterday my son wanted to go fishing, so we loaded the tackle in the car along with Leo, our Samoyed dog, and I drove 30 miles up into the Bridger range near our town to a clear, small, snow fed lake filled with cutthroat trout, called Fairy Lake. It is completely surrounded with wildflowers, an amazing array of varieties, tall trees, and sits at the bottom of a hardscrabble saddle between Sacajawea and Hardscrabble Peaks. I wish I had taken a camera with me. I thought I would be able to find a photo of the lake on the web to show you, but the closest I came is a shot of a trail at the top of the ridge above treeline showing Sacajawea Peak.

Anyway, as my son fished, I walked around the edge of the lake with the dog, stopping every once in awhile to sing a folk song or Italian aria. The lake is at the bottom of a bowl below the saddle between these two peaks, so the sound of people talking across the water is easy to hear. The water is completely crystal clear and cold, and you can see the trout right below the surface. There were a few fly fishers, a couple of people on the edges of the lake, but really not many people. As I walked along, I would meet people and they would ask if I was the one singing. It was a really neat evening, cooler than the heat of the valley where it was in the nineties yesterday. At one point I met a lady who spoke up with a Scottish accent. We talked about the folk songs she had heard me singing, ceilis at home she grew up with, and the fact that her husband is also an artist and they had moved just 18 months ago to the area. By the time I came around to the spot where my son was fishing, he had caught a 12.5" cutthroat. Evening was on us, and we headed home for trout dinner. The next time I go up there I'll take my camera so I can show you this pretty lake.