Are you kidding? Have you seen my pictures? Who in the hell wouldn't love stalking a trout in a cold, clear mountain stream at 8000 feet of elevation? The air is thin and cool, the mountains are gorgeous, the water is freezing ass cold even in the summer, and it's completely silent except for the rush of the stream, the birds chirping, and the wind in the ponderosa pines. I love the fish, but don't keep many. I throw most back. I keep just enough to feed us for one meal. I love the fight the trout gives me when hooked, but ultimately, it's just about being in a wild, free place. There's something about the western mountains. I can feel the pioneer spirit, the Indian spirit, the adventure of what once was when I'm in the high country. It makes me feel like there's an adventure around every bend in the stream. It makes me feel like I'm in the one place I truly belong. I can't explain that. I really belong to my wife, and I love being with her, and anyplace with her is home. Yet, I never really feel like I'm safe, and like I belong, unless I'm in those streams and the mountains around the area where I grew up. When I'm there, I know what's what. Does that make any sense? For me, fishing and the mountains go together.
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