Day 7 – Grayling and the "Raptor's Roost"
Since we missed the fishing on Day 6, we decided to really hammer out a long day, on this, our last day of the adventure.

We rode out another hunting trail near the Syncline Mountains, and Tim found us an anonymous little feeder creek on the valley floor. He stood watch for bears with his shotgun, as Doogie, Keith and I traded casts at little grayling. They ate dry flies, virtually on every cast. The water was crystal clear, so we could see them hiding along the creek banks. They weren't the largest fish, maybe 12-inchers, but they acted as if they hadn't ever seen flies before. To me, that's the "essence" of fly fishing, every bit as enjoyable as wrestling with the big salmon – total solitude, pristine environment, and delicate casts with dry flies. And that we had tasted both ends of the fly fishing spectrum in such a short timeframe -- all from quads --was a real awakening for me.