Yesterday was a perfect fall day, and M. and I plus two friends were out in the Wet Mountains with shotguns, three dogs, and picnic ingredients. Only one grouse was seen, but the picnic part went well.
We are easing along a narrow, dusty Forest Service road in two dog-packed Jeeps when we encounter a 4x4 coming the other way. A man and a woman are in it.
They want directions to "Spruce Creek." They are both wearing chest waders.
For starters, they are up on a ridge at least 1,000 feet above the stream. And at first I muddle the directions for the hair-raising road that will get them down to it, but eventually we work out that part.
I do not have the heart to tell them that even if they find the creek, there is no way that they will need the chest waders. Just because it has "Creek" in the name does not mean that there is much water there.