About as nice a camping spot as I’ve had, here at the head of the valley running a hundred miles to the Snake.  I think it’s the Snake.  Pretty certain.  I didn’t fish down there, I had a beer and made fajitas and watched it from the talus as pikas made their lonesome cry a little ways up the hill.  I caught two fish from a beaver pond upstream, after watching three mule deer cross the road.

 

That’s plenty.