After unloading, my nephew took the opportunity to cozy up to a boulder and take a nap.  Everyone marveled., but I just smiled... he's done this since he was a little one.  With the smile came both sadness and pride.  Sadness at the loss of the little dude and Pride in the young man that had become of him.

Standing around and shooting the breeze, we were met with a gust of wind from the towering mountains. Instinctively, I think we all knew or feared what that meant... RAIN !

It started light enough, but before long it was really starting to pour.  We hurried to get the tents up, before it became too wet.

After an hour, or so, the rain gave way to drizzle.  And, the sun poked through the overcast skies from time to time.  We inspected our tents and found that they had passed their test.  Wet on the outside and dry within.

Soon we received word that a small plane had crashed, about a mile down the road.  So a few of us jumped in the truck, with cameras in hand, to check it out.  The female pilot had been fortunate, and walked away from it with little more than a forehead scratch/cut.

With the smell of roasting meat intermingled with the sweet scent that comes from a recent downpour, we were cheerful and optimistic. Now and again, a light drizzle would fall briefly.  Other than that, we couldn't have asked for better conditions.  More so when you consider the heat-wave of the past couple weeks.  Cool breezes and light rains seemed like a 'Plus'.

After dinner, we cleaned up and relaxed around what was left of the fire.  A good meal in our bellies and all was well with the world.  At that point, We could have gone home and felt as though we'd missed nothing.

I focused my attention on the comfort of the moment and tried not to dwell on the morrow.  Knowing the hike up to the Alpine Lakes could be a taste of hell., I'd just leave that concern for the morning.

After a brief journey beyond and above the Trail Head, we stopped for a Group Photo Op (L-R Gary, Marshal, Eric, Mike and Vance).  It's always best to take this picture more sooner than later.  When everyone is still in good spirits.  Not having been this way before, who knows what miseries (if any) lay ahead.

We did know that the elevation gain would be constant, until we reached Little Pothole Lake.  And though my nephew grew impatient with the pace, I made certain we took it slow and easy.  We'll have the entire day tomorrow to fish., so today we'll take our time getting there.

Ok, so we were passed by young and older groups alike. Not because we were tired... but because we/I set the pace at a snails' pace.  I was going to say Granny Pace., but heck, we were being passed by Grannies every 15 minutes.

I'm a firm believer that one should take every opportunity to take a break on the trail.  And the Wilderness Boundary Sign is no exception.

On viewing this picture (L-R Vance, Mike, Marshal, Ken (Me) and Eric), someone commented as to why everyone was leaning.  I can't speak for the others, I was merely leaning on the sign.  Everyone else just seemed to follow suit.  Hey, even the sign is leaning a bit.

As we continued onward, the sun grew a bit hotter... yet the cool updrafts continued and made the hike enjoyable. 

Soon we were growing desperate to see Little Pothole.  Just then we were overtaken by a group of youngsters (college folks).  Apparently, a cross country team in a hurry to cover 12 miles.  I was content to cover our 2-3 miles, thank you.  Their 'Tail-End Charlie' was a Gal dressed in red shorts.  Like a Red Flag waved at a bull, I felt a sense of renewed vigor., and off we went.  In an attempt to keep the little red motivational tool in view, our paced was a bit quickened., until someone had the gall to yell "Hold up!".  And, as with any other Flight of Fancy., the motivational tool and my vigor promptly vanished.

Continuing, I couldn't help growing impatient for any sign of Little Pothole ... and then it appeared.  I'm not entirely sure, but I think I heard angels sing when I sighted this all important bench mark.  This signaled that most of the climbing and trail was now behind us.

The scenery throughout the trek, thus far, was fantastic.  The scenery at Little Pothole would transcend a bit further beyond what we've seen so far.  The picture here with Mike and Gary will give you a pretty good idea of what I'm talking about.

A peaked range in the background, with this tree covered granite lesser ridge with a waterfall flowing into Little Pothole.  A spectacular sight for sure. It's at this point, you're reassured that you're heading in the right direction., and that the best is yet to come.

Little Pothole gave us cause to take a longer break.  And for some, to toss their packs for a little while.

We quickly start calculating the number of fish, the width and length of the lake.  We were fortunate to arrive when the trout were rising all over the lake.  Nothing gets a Trout-Chaser's blood flowing more than a sight like this.  Unfortunately, this was merely a bench mark along the way.  Flower, our ultimate destination and camping spot, should be just up ahead.

Hiking towards the West end of Gilbert, Gary finds a vista to give us a clear view and better understanding of the layout of Gilbert.  Yep, we'll come back and visit her tomorrow.

At this point, we're all excited.  We know Gilbert will give us plenty of amusement.  Just in case, Flower does not.

Soon we were at Flower Lake, scouting around for a suitable camp site.  After hopping from one to another, we settled on a perfect spot.  Sheltered from winds by a boulder, two large adjoining logs to serve as benches and windbreaks for the stoves. And the lake just a 100' away.  Or at least, seemingly a 100' away ... might have been less.  We couldn't have asked for more.

At some point, a FS person would pay our site a visit.  Make a brief inspection of it and then share his knowledge of the area.

Throughout our stay, I would comment on several occasions about how much I liked the site.  As sites go, they don't get much better than this.  On a 10 point scale, I'd give it an easy 9.

Eric would be the first one on the water.  He pitched his tent away from the main-body and surreptitiously made his way to the inlet. I thought he was still at camp, until we got to the water and saw him beating the inlet with a fly.

Gary promptly found a little clearing to cast from., while I waded out on what appeared to be a shelf.  Shallow yes, but rigid no.  I sank 6 or more inches into the ooze.  Which was fine, I've sunk deeper.

The fish were easily spooked and seemed well accustomed to two legged creatures bearing hooks.  Still, it wouldn't take long before we were giving a few of the little guys a ride on our flies.

One lake, 2 catching some Z's, 4 anglers and 3 nudists ... it doesn't get much better than this

Although a bit little, in the 8" range, they were aggressive and fun to catch.  Basically, you could catch fish just about anywhere.  Convenience and the ability to keep dry being the only differences between spots.

Occasionally, we'd spy a larger trout sitting on the bottom or slowly passing by.  They never seemed too interested in what I had to offer.

After circumnavigating the lake once, I was happy to have C&R'd  9 Brookies.  And I was ready to return to the camp site and relax.  My head was already telling me that I had neglected to put on sunscreen.

Gary at one point seemed to find the perfect spot, chosen fly and fish.  It seemed like he could catch fish there endlessly.  It was good to see this kind of action, even though I was merely an onlooker.  I remembered when Gary and I were catching trees and bushes... so watching him in his newfound fishing Zen was oddly satisfying.

Honestly, I had grown tired of fishing and was more than happy to kick back and watch someone else.  More so, since Gary was both in the Zone and the Zen.  I pulled down the brim of my hat, in hopes not getting further cooked by the sun, and watched.

The next morning we were greeted with risers and several hatches in the process.  And for that reason, breakfast would be postponed until later.

Again, Eric would be on the water first.  With everyone else soon to follow.

It was truly a madhouse of hatches.  Just about anywhere seemed good.

In this picture of Gary and Marshal, I felt like I was watching kids at an Easter Egg Hunt.

The water and winds were calm, hatches were hatching and fish were rising.  The only thing more we could have asked for were bigger fish.

All the while, I day dreamed of cruising the lake in a Float Tube.  That just had to be the Cats' Meow. 

The picture to the right was taken by Gary from across the lake.  He wanted to capture the risers, hatch and many fish.  You'll need to click the picture for the larger version of it, then you should be able to make out the risers, hatch and fish (sausage shaped shadows beneath the surface).

Kinda makes your skin tickle, doesn't it?

After breakfast the group headed on over to Gilbert Lake.  It was there they managed to land a couple larger fish.  But I doubt the larger fish are limited to Gilbert, it just happened that way then.

Vance at Gilbert (pictured left) fishing in the rain, while Uncle Ken takes cover in the trees.  At times it was pouring, but mostly just a sprinkling of BIG drops.

Meanwhile, Gary was in another Zen near the inlet., while the others were chasing trout at the other end.  At one point I watched Gary make a perfect cast.  Just as the fly kissed the water, it was taken by leaping Brook trout.  It was an amazing sight and I couldn't contain myself.  I may have even embarrassed Gary with my High School Football sideline enthusiasm, cheering him on.  What can I say?  That was a spectacular sight.  How I wished I'd had a movie camera trained on that cast & take.  Sweet.

Gilbert was deeper, wider and longer... or so it seemed.  Another PERFECT candidate for a GST Float Tube Flotilla.

Though deeper and wider, Gilbert didn't seem to come close the availability of camping sites.  But than again, we didn't spend much time looking for such.