Trout Creek

I liked Trout Creek before anyone but the locals knew it was there. You had to have a tractor or some pickups to get down there. We used to load up the trailer and put our picnic basket on and load up the people and off for the day of fishing.

My dad was so funny because he would always lay down and lay his fishing pole beside him and tie the fishing line around his toe and go to sleep.  When I look back I know it was because he was exhausted but we thought it was so funny and would sneak up and yank on the line.

There was a railroad in the canyon with the biggest trestle you could imagine, way up in the air. When I grew up I realized it was a little trestle and smaller and not as high as the one is Madras but when you were riding on that wagon it sure seemed big.

It also had a vi-duct  under the railroad for the road just wide enough for a single vehicle. We thought it was a tunnel.  We would yell and holler when we went through it.  When they road got better and we drove the pickup we would have dad honk the horn and we would yell and holler.  Our tunnel was so funny when we got bigger and realized it was not a big tunnel.

Memories when you are small just look different when you grow up. That road and that area have became a big campground for fly fishermen and rafters unload there all the time. They even have a camp host. Things changes and life goes on.