BCJ_SUMMER17 Digital Edition

GOLD AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW
BY MIKE GNATKOWSKI
MOUNTAINEER FINIS MITCHELL HAD A PLAN when he
saddled up his pack train and lashed milk cans to the panniers of
his horses during the Great Depression. His intent was to establish
trout species in as many of Wyoming’s Wind River Range lakes as
he could, but he had a special plan for the cargo of golden trout
that came from the Kern River system in California. His intent
was to plant the goldens in the highest, most pristine waters in the
Winds, isolating them from other species to keep the strain pure.
The plan worked. Today, high elevation lakes in the Wind River
Range provide one of the best chances in the world to catch a
trophy golden trout. The current Wyoming and World Record
golden trout weighed 11.25 pounds, was 28 inches long and came
from Sublette County back in 1948. Trout like that still swim in
Wind River Range lakes.
“Goldens can be found in the high mountain lakes above 9,500
feet from north to south in the entire Wind River Mountain
Range,” said Hilda Sexauer, Wyoming Game and Fish Department
regional fisheries supervisor. She said there are around 30
lakes containing golden trout just on the west side of the Winds.
“The majority of these waters have self-sustaining golden trout
populations, but we do stock a handful of them every two to four
years.”
Reaching these pristine lakes is no walk in the park. No roads
cross the Wind River Range north of South Pass until you reach
9,210-foot Union Pass at the northern end of the range. In between
are more than 40 named peaks over 13,000 feet and more
than 180 glaciers, including seven of the 10 largest glaciers in the
Lower 48, blocking your path to golden trout nirvana. Numerous
trailheads lead from lower elevations, but there are no shortcuts.
Catching a golden comes at a high price. The only practical ways
to reach the golden lakes are via horseback or hiking.
A couple years ago, the Trout Gods shined on me. Erick Kirchner,
who I’ve known since he was a toddler in diapers, runs an
outfitting service out of Pinedale. During the summer he takes
anglers on wilderness horseback trips into the Wind River Range.
I let him know – several times – that catching a golden trout was
on my bucket list. So when he called to tell me he had an open
saddle, I jumped at the chance. The window of opportunity to
catch a golden trout in the Winds is relatively small. Lakes are
ice-covered until late June or early July, about when the meadows
suddenly explode with wildflowers. Trout quickly spawn in early
summer before gorging voraciously to make up for a long, ninemonth
winter fast.
Our group met in town and we followed the horse trailers over
an increasingly rough road to the trailhead. Kirchner, his son
Hunter, and wranglers Chan Weller and Josiah Romano, busily
unloaded steeds, saddles and gear and went about packing and
weighing panniers loaded with the essentials that we’d need to
spend four days in the wilderness.
It became immediately clear that in my excitement over the
trip, I really hadn’t considered the difficulty of an eight-hour, 15-
mile trail ride over cruel terrain. It had been decades since I last
rode a horse. It soon became apparent I’d not conditioned my
body, and especially my rear end, for the adventure. My friend
advised me to slather on Desenex and slide myself into a pair of
panty hose to survive the trip, but I chose not to subject myself
to the indignity.
The first mile or so was along a dirt road. A well-defined trail
was flat and mundane, but that changed in short order. The pace
of the horses slowed as if they knew what was ahead. Verdant
green meadows alternated with steep, rocky inclines. Crevasses
through the granite were sometimes barely wide enough for the
horses to slither through. I acquired a whole new respect for the
horses. With each obstacle they would stop and survey the situation
and then tactfully place one foot ahead of the other to
negotiate their way through the boulders.
We arrived at our campsite just about the same time my body
told me it could take no more. In spite of our desire to rest, Chandler
instructed us to summon the last of our energy and find a flat
spot to set up our tents and to spread out and gather up fire wood
while he and Hunter set up camp and Erick and Josiah tended to
the horses.
Once a fire was blazing, I gave Chandler a hand preparing one
of his fabulous Dutch oven creations. Finally, I plopped down in
a camp chair at the edge of the fire to enjoy a splash of bourbon.
The view was spectacular. A ribbon of stream coursed through
the bottom of the valley and disappeared into infinity. Spring
rains had caused the valley below to explode into a sea of green
that contrasted starkly with the austere shades of the Wind River
Range’s shocking topography and gunmetal-gray crags. I began
daydreaming about outrageous, shockingly colored trout.
Actually reaching the golden trout lakes required us to traverse
the valley that had served as our backdrop at camp. It took all
morning to reach the other side of the gorge. The horses, again,
more than proved their worth, and I thanked God that He had
the foresight to craft such intelligent, sure-footed creatures.
Eventually we reached a point where we could take the horses
no farther, and we tied them in the shade of some pines to rest.
The balance of the journey required travel on foot. Chandler led
the way along the faint path. My legs felt like Jell-O from the
ordeal and I conscientiously told myself to place one foot ahead
of the other or risk a tumble. We picked our way along until we
came to a sizable pool in a stream that connected two lakes. Erick
edged up to the top of a car-sized boulder overlooking the
pool and waved me up to his side. It took a few seconds for my
eyes to focus. When they did, I could make out 15 or 20 goldens
suspended in the current, jockeying for position in the pecking
order. One of the rotund trout at the head of the school might
have weighed 6 or 7 pounds.
I volunteered to stay at the pool while the rest of the group
headed up to the next lake that was visible in the drainage. I
rigged up my spinning rod with my favorite Panther Martin spin-
54 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL SUMMER 2017
SUMMER 2017 BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL | 55