Abusing Myself

Saturday, May 30th

For the past couple of years, I've been curious about a small lake that I noticed on Google Earth, near Palisade Reservoir. In the back of my mind, I've always cataloged it as a "maybe someday" type of place until late last year...

While doing some research about smaller central lakes in Sanpete County, I stumbled upon the coordinates for a lake I had noticed on the DWR's stocking reports: West Parley's. When I typed the coordinates into Google Maps search, a smile hit my face to see that "someday" lake staring back at me.

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Recently, I've had an urge to hike into a small lake with my tube and get into some fish that don't receive too much pressure. After some consideration and consulting with someone who knows a lot about the area, I was provided with some insight as to where I should start my trek and also a decent trail map of the mountain.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

My hike started at a small turnoff from the main road up Six Mile Canyon, right before the road crossed the creek (which is raging right now). Hauling a pack filled with gear, I set off to find this tucked away pond, hopefully filled with fat brookies.

The first few minutes of the hike went smoothly, paralleling the creek bed and slowly making its way up the mountainside. Soon enough, however, I encountered the first of many steep inclines. They just kept coming around every bend and I found myself needing to take a rest every 10 minutes or so.

My ascent took me around to the back (east) side of some taller hills and Rattlesnake Peak, where the ground was soft with moisture and the plant life was slowly transforming from sagebrush and junipers to green grasses and scrub oak. Charred remains of trees served as a reminder of an old prescribed burn, gone bad.

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Higher and higher I climbed between panting rest stops as the view got better by the step. The junipers were now giving way to some surviving aspens and pines.

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Don't be fooled by the ATV trail. It might look easy in the pics, but I hiked through many rough spots where passage would be extremely difficult without removing a lot of obstacles including case-bashing rocks, fallen timbers, and low branches.

The ashen graveyard was still everywhere within my gaze:

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My GPS kept me hopeful that I was getting closer, but the distance it gave was in a straight line, which was quite deceiving. It seemed as though every time I rounded yet another hill that I would be able to see the flat where my water awaited me. I thought I was getting close for at least an hour and a half, but it was mostly just a big tease.

Once I started getting into the thick pines and the air had that classic 'high country pine forest' smell, I knew it wouldn't be long.

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Finally, after beating myself up for about 3.5 hours and missing the side trail (to the lake) by a couple hundred yards, my sparkling gem showed itself through the trees.

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I staked out a good place to drop my gear and a sinking realization hit me: The lake was very shallow (maybe 4 feet in the deep spots) and holdover fish probably weren't a possibility. There was no evidence of fish anywhere and I couldn't see any swimming, even though I could see almost all of the bottom.

Small ripples would trick me for a moment until I realized that they were either air bubbles boiling up from the mossy bottom, or salamanders rising. No brookies anywhere, dead or alive.

The DWR reportedly stocks around 500 of them every year, so where do they go? Looking around, I noticed several VERY healthy looking raptors soaring the area. Scratched up stumps and unfamiliar droppings suggested the presence of bears and other predators that could easily clean up the winter-killed fish.

Another problem showed its head shortly after my arrival. Dark clouds began to fill the sky, thunder was sounding off with increasing frequency, and a light shower drizzled down. My better judgment told me to omit the float and my back breaking pack would never even be opened.

Despite the forces that seemed to be against me, it was still a serene place to be. Not a human within an earshot, no traffic noises, and no visible evidence of civilization. Just me, the mountains, and some cold water to splash on my face while I caught a needed rest.

Pity the lake wasn't 10 feet deeper. The habitat seemed really fishy. Casting a marabou jig and a blue fox in vain reinforced my belief of a dead lake.

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Knowing that the lake is stocked every year and also knowing that I didn't float it to explore all areas, it might be a mistake to conclude that it is entirely fishless. I reported this lake and its location with hopes to be proven wrong. In fact, I welcome it. If anyone out there knows something I don't, or wishes to challenge my verdict, send me a message and I'll be glad to hear you out. I'd love to find out that there really are survivors in there.

What a gorgeous place.

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Without so much as pulling out my tube or waders, I made the decision to leave before any heavy rains came. The trail was already mushy enough on the way up and it would be nearly impossible to keep my footing on the way down. After using my filter to fill up my water bottle, I made my retreat.

The hike down took about 2 hours at a decent pace, only stopping to rest once when my legs wouldn't work any longer. The ominous clouds had passed and the heavy rains never came, but it's better to be safe than sorry in such a situation. Upon arriving at my car, I slumped my beaten body into the driver seat and enjoyed some ice cold refreshment from my cooler while regaining my will to continue the day.

Knowing that I hadn't caught any fish yet, and that more water lay up the road, I took a short drive up Six Mile Canyon in hopes that the road would be solid enough for my car. After a short drive, I was forced to either lose my bumper or turn around. I turned around, leaving with only pictures. I need a truck.

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So hopefully I've helped to satisfy other map-lookers' curiosities by my masochistic journey. No need to go up there in search of fish, but it's a great place for solitude and a real butt kicker of a hike. It's all part of finding the good spots though. Hopefully next trip I'll get into some fish.

Happy Fishing, Humans.