The drive down was perfectly normal until we hit the stretch from the top of 4th of July Pass down to the Rose Lake turnoff. Road construction had funneled four lanes of traffic into two, and to make things interesting, they used those big cement dividers to separate the lanes. Nothing like a narrow concrete chute to keep you alert. I white‑knuckled the truck through the curves and traffic. Not the most relaxing drive, but we made it.
Huckleberry Campground wasn’t full, and we had a great site just across the driveway from the Burches. Ben and Sherma were a little farther away in their spot. I was able to go fishing twice during our stay. The first day the water was high but clear, and I fished a Green Drake fly with a #10 black stonefly dropper. I got lucky and hooked two really nice cutthroats and one kamikaze cut that was about six inches long. We arrived and ended the trip with a fish count of three real nice cutthroats and two little shakers.
Linda spent her time walking, reading, and catching up with our friends. After a couple days of rain, the weather finally turned around, and we all entertained ourselves with card games and tossing the cornhole bags. Simple fun, good company, and a quiet campground — hard to beat.
As the weekend wound down, I found myself appreciating the simple rhythm of it all — good friends, a quiet river, a few fish, and the kind of easy days that remind you why the St. Joe keeps pulling us back. Nothing fancy, nothing rushed, just time well spent in a place that always feels a little like home.
