If you look closely, you can just make out Great White parked on the left at the Soda Butte Trailhead about a half mile away. At the start of our hike, we had to share the trail with a few bison. One big guy just plopped himself down right in the middle of the trail. We had to walk around him and make our way back to the trail.
A short while later, another bison was coming down our trail. He stopped, looked at us for a while. We were just about to go around him, when he headed off the trail and down to our right. We noticed that the bison are looking a little shaggy this time of year. They are shedding their winter coats. The trail was littered with large chunks of bison hair.
Most of the bison herd had moved town the valley. However, they left behind lots and lots of buffalo chips. Those buffalo chips attracted lots and lots of flies. As long as the wind was blowing, we were fine. As soon as it quit, the flies found us.
We met a fellow backpacker on his way back to the trailhead. He had cut his trip short a day. He said the flies were just too bad. He was going to be in campsite 3L1 (which we would be in our second night). He told us how to find the site, but we didn't chat long because the longer we stood still, the more flies found us.
After setting up camp, we broke out the fly suits we bought in preparation for our trip to Alaska. Here is the view from behind Dave's fly suit.
As this is a busy time of year in Yellowstone, we weren't able to book the same campsite two nights in a row. The first night we stayed on the far side of Cache Creek, closer to the confluence with Lamar River. This site was right next to the creek. After lunch, we hiked down Cache Creek to explored all the fishing holes on the way to the confluence with the Lamar River. We ran into a fisherman and his two young sons. They were having a blast. We took notes and headed back to camp.
After a snack break, we also hiked up to the plateau above our campsite to get a good look around. We followed the steep trail up, and ran into a couple of young men in their late teens. One was following a bison path which would lead him over the ledge and straight down to the creek. They looked exhausted. We called them over to the trail and showed them the way down. We asked them where they were going to camp, since we knew there were only two sites on this part of Cache Creek and we had one of them, and the other was reserved by the backpacker who left early. They explained that there were booked in a campsite on Cache Creek Trail, but they couldn't find it. We pulled out our topo map, the campsite was 5.5 miles up the Cache Creek Trail. They obviously didn't hike in far enough before turning around. A third member of their party came stumbling down the trail with only a small day pack with a tent and sleeping bag hanging off it. He had heat exhaustion written all over his face. It was obvious that they didn't have a clue as to what they were doing. If you know your camp is on the Cache Creek Trail, why would you leave the trail and try to find it? We took pity on them and told them that a backpacker had left his site early and they could crash there for the night. However, if a Ranger came to check their permit, they were on their own. At least no other backpacker was due in the site tonight.
Having done our good deed and saved the lives of those three hapless hikers, we continued on our sight seeing tour of the Lamar Valley. We saw plenty of bear scat, but no bear. It was time to head back to camp and enjoy happy hour. One the way back, we did look across the creek to see that the Lost Boys had set up their tents and appeared to be recovering from their ordeal. We were able to make a campfire and the smoke and breeze kept the bugs away.
We were up early the next morning. We wanted to be ready to fish as soon as the sun hit the water. Just as we were about to leave the campsite, I looked over Dave's shoulder and there was Mr. Moose munching away on some bushes. He gave us the once over and went back to his munching. We would have stayed and chatted longer, but the fish were calling us.
Now, we've all heard fish stories before. We tend to take them with a grain of salt. It is the god-given right of every fisherman to exaggerate, but I kid you not. Kathy cast her fly in and caught a 9 inch cutthroat trout. Several more casts produced several more fish. Dave had similar luck in the next pool. It continued this was all the way down to the confluence with the Lamar River. The fish ranged in size from 6 to 12 inches. At the confluence, there was a large pool, with several riffles leading into it. We took turns at the best spot, giving the it over after catching at least 10 fish each time. The four hours went by quickly. We headed back to break camp and moved over to our next site across and up the other side of Cache Creek.
It was just about noon, when we crossed over Cache Creek and could see that the Lost Boys were still in what has now become our camp site. We were afraid that this might happen, so it didn't surprise us when they sheepishly begged to stay with us. They were afraid to go and try to find their original site since they had trouble finding it in the first place. Turns out, only one of the three had any experience backpacking having been on one backpack, the other two were complete novices. They were camped out around the bear pole, so we left them there. We were able to find a nice level spot about 100 yards from the pole with our own personal fire ring.
While only a half a mile from our original site, the climate was complete different. On this side of creek, it is much drier and covered by sage brush, whereas our first site was damp and green and in the trees. This second site was a big enough area, we hardly noticed the Lost Boys. Here is a 270 degree video of our little valley. We tried a 360, but the sun washed out part of it.
Video View of Cache Creek Canyon
The next morning, we woke to find a few visitors. As Dave got out the binoculars to scope out a couple of bison crossing the creek, we heard some grunting from behind. In walks Mr. Bison right by our tent. Here is Kathy wishing him a good morning. We asked him to stay for coffee, but he was late making his rounds.
After breakfast, we packed up the tent and tarp, bear poled our food and went fishing again. This time, we were on the opposite side of the creek, which gave us a chance to fish those pools we had to pass by the first day because we couldn't reach them. We couldn't simply cross the creek with ease because we don't bring our waders on backpacks - too heavy - and we don't have wading boots (that problem is being solved for future backpack fishing expeditions). We had more company on the stream today. Here is Mr. Woodchuck, safe in his woodpile, watching Dave land a big fat trout.
Just as we reached the confluence with Lamar River, we noticed Bambi across the river. She watched us for a little while, before getting bored watching us pull all those fish from the river.
After about three hours and dozens of fish, it was time to head back to camp, pick up packs and hike back out. We took a short cut back by climbing a cliff face and bushwhacking up to the plateau and following some bison paths back to the main trail. Here is the view down on the confluence, which was the scene of our fishy victories:
As we hiked out of the valley, we could see some weather coming in. We noticed a herd of something approaching us, but it was too colorful to be bison. As we got closer, we realized it was a large group of high school students. There were 12 students with 4 adult chaperones bringing up the rear. They were going to be seniors next year and this was their big outdoor adventure. They had all taken fly fishing lessons and were ready to try out what they learned. The group was going to share our two campsites and have the valley to themselves. We told them all we discovered - flies, moose, buffalo, deer and the trout - especially what flies we used to catch all those trout. They were very excited to start their adventure. These kids were obviously prepared - no lost boys and girls here.
We did get sprinkled on, but we didn't need rain jackets, as it ended as quickly as it started. As we approached the trailhead, we could see the fishermen lined up on Soda Butte Creek. There were dozens of them, all about 20 yards from each other. It just made us realize how lucky we are that we can backpack into an area and have it all to ourselves.
This is no fish story!
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Thanks for writing! When were you there?
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