Brownlee Reservoir

 

 

 

 

 

On the road to Brownlee, about 2 hours and forty-five minutes to go.  Nothing much to see.

 

 

Oooohh.  Horses.  (Just a little reminder that we’re zooming down the Interstate at 75mph!) 

The Farmers didn’t have their usual toys for this trip so spying anything interesting helped minimize the “are we there yet’s”.

 

 

The view started to change from flat and matted brown to hills, plateaus and rolling greens.

 

 

There were cows.

 

 

And a REAL live cowboy came galloping down the hillside.

 

 

There were winding rivers and little towns

 

 

with a grand hotel, motel, inn and coffee shop all in one. 

 

 

I even discovered that I own a small ranch house and restaurant.

 

 

The last bit of civilization before we started the climb.

 

 

Our view from the top, a nose-bleeding height of 4,131' above sea level.

 

 

Winding roads

 

 

and lots of rocks

 

 

until we reached the bottom.

 

 

First on the agenda, find a campsite.

 

 

There we these little shanty-town shacks all along the shoreline.

 

 

 

Though the water was beautiful, it was very cold.

I loved the way the black rocks jutted out from underneath the carpet of green.

 

 

It made the hunt for a campsite that much more challenging, but we found it.  Center-left is where we pitched our tent

 

 

When we landed the bow on the somewhat sandy beach we found hundreds of butterflies flittering about and resting on the wet soil.  It seemed almost magical.

 

 

 

Once camp was set up it was time to fish.  It started out a little slow until Dave caught a 2 lb. bass.

 

 

 

 

A mule deer came down for a drink near one of our Crappie hot-spots.

 

 

 

 

 

With our tummies grumbling, it was time to head back to camp.  Devin started a fire and Dave set up the grill.  We had some fish to fry.

 

 

 

The fishy taste of victory.  Chili cheese dogs on hand just in case the lines weren’t hot.

 

 

With such success, the Farmers fished into the night and actually caught perch.

 

(I should’ve brought my tripod… oh well.  A quick lesson in what not to do or should I say to do.)

 

 

When the last of the sunlight faded away, the stars took over and so did all the critters that hoot, howl and scurry – sometimes rather noisily. 

This was the first time we had camped so “rustic” and both Dave and I were a little nervous to say the least.  We made a huge fire and stayed up into the wee hours. 

The loss of sleep did have its benefits; shooting stars and an eyeful of twinkles we don’t have the chance to see in town.  Realizing that nothing was going to eat us or just too tired to care, we rejoined our snoring Farmers in the tent and tried to catch a few zzz’s.

 

 

 

 

Up to take some flower shots while the sun was low.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just before the tent came down, the boat pulled from the water and we said good-bye to Brownlee.

 

The ride back was uneventful.  Well, I suppose there was a tiny event.  As we came back down the mountain, the drivers side window rolled down to take in as much fresh air as possible, a small honeybee lost it’s way and landed right between Miss Is’ thigh and her shorts.  She freaked, I tried not to freak and help her out without either one of us getting stung.  Who knows what happened to the bee, I never did find it again, but all was well.

 

Brownlee Reservoir – we’d do it again.