I did a little backpacking the other weekend to a high mountain lake in search of some golden trout. After a spending the night at the trailhead in a downpour and waking up in a puddle, we decided against our better judgment that we weren’t going to let “a little bit of rain” stop us. We rolled up our soaking wet sleeping bags and headed out into the rain. After about five miles of hiking up the trail and counting the different drainages as we passed them, we turned off the trail and began the bushwhack up what we thought was the right drainage. After another four miles or so straight up the hill through deadfall and rocky terrain, we reached the plateau. At this point the rain turned to sleet, and we were hoping we were in the right spot. We pushed onwards unable to see what was below us. Once we thought we were far enough in we started to descend in the area we figured the lake would be. We dropped through the clouds and fog, and hallelujah there was the lake. After making our way down we dropped our packs and started fishing. After we each caught a few goldens, we set up camp and tried to make a fire to dry out all of our soaking wet gear. Despite our best efforts, even leaving the whisperlight tilted into the fire on full blast for close to an hour, we were unable to get anything to burn. With no other options we finished the whiskey, put on every layer of soaking wet clothes we had and crawled into our wet sleeping bags. The rain never stopped, and we shivered through the night. The next morning the rain let up a bit and we caught some more fish before hiking out. It’s funny the things we do for fish, but it was definitely worth it, and those are the type of trips you never forget.