Camping at Massacre Rocks was nice. Little cottontails roamed around the campsites, making almost no noise at all. If you were lucky you would get a glimpse of three or more at time playing on the boulders that marked each campsite. There were also no bugs…anywhere. The night before we had swarms of aquatic insects slapping us in the face, but here there was none of that. This all came with a fee though, as Massacre Rock was a state-owned campsite. I was out of the tent before Boots and Currier were up, and took a shot of Currier on the picnic table.
“I love picnic tables.” He explained, “They are always level, and free of rocks”. As a matter of fact, as we rolled onto our campsite late the previous night, Currier felt the need to “call” the table for himself… as if he had any competition for it.
Boots crawled out of the back of his truck.
“Morning fellas.” He said happily with a stretch.
For our last morning, I still had one more breakfast up my sleeve: egg and bean breakfast tacos, and there is no better way to have them than with homemade tortillas.
Boots went to get the boat for a quick morning exploration of the surrounding water. Before we took off, Currier spotted some carp movement near the dock. He quickly grabbed his rod and was ready to make a cast if the opportunity presented itself.
“Must have just been milling around.” He said, placing his rod back into the boat, and we launched to explore. Boots and Currier exchanged old guiding stories of disasters that they made into good days in the Yellowstone backcountry. It’s always nice to hear these stories, and it made the morning fly by. Amongst the great conversation, a few bass were caught too.
My parents came to Boise from Washington to help make my trip possible. Along with the understanding of my wife, Gracy, knowing I would love to be on this trip. Before departing we had made plans to do it again next year, and you better believe I will do what I can to return.