After we left Lander, we made a somewhat unexpected diversion to the Flaming Gorge and Green River in Northern Utah.  It’s interesting how the places you know and love just naturally draw you back, time and time again.  We are all “creatures of habit”, and we are even more so, but there’s just something comforting about familiar places.  We camped two nights at the Deer Run Campground just above the dam and near the marina.  Pricey for retirees on a senior budget at $25 per night, but the lure of a hot shower thrown in for “free” sealed the deal for Maryjo.  I managed to get a few hours of “quality time” on the river and Maryjo took full advantage of that by watching a corny movie on her iPad as she stayed at the campsite.  My time on the river was great.  I arrived a little late (9:45AM) to my favorite honey hole at the top of the B section only to find an imposter in my spot.  Frustrating, but a day on the river is better than a day of working, right?  It forced me to find some new water, and after about 15 minutes, I was able to key in on what the fish wanted.  I hooked 3 decent rainbows and one “monsta” brown on tiny flies below the surface.  I haven’t felt a fish that heavy in quite some time, and honestly, the fish basically manhandled me.  I played the fish for maybe three minutes or so, and at no time during those three minutes did I have the upper hand.  The fish just went where it wanted to go the entire time.  I remember looking up at the rod frequently because I just couldn’t believe the bend that was being imparted by this massive beast.  Most trout bend the tip of  a 5 weight rod, this one bent the entire rod right down to the butt section.  It was one of those rare times that a fly guy realizes that his equipment is considerably undersized.  Anyway, you know the ending…the fish took a hard run downriver, almost into my backing, and then “pop”, he was gone.  I never saw the fish, which tells me it was a brown, but I hope to meet him again sometime.  The weather in Flaming Gorge was spectacular, the crowds were non-existent, and the aspens above 8,000 feet were a bright yellow. It is truly a magical time to be in that area, and it was a good reminder to me and to us that you can travel all over the place to new areas in search of “better stuff”, but sometimes the best stuff is located right in your backyard.  What a great segue to my next piece about our return to Park City…please stay tuned.  Over and out…