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Two weeks ago tonight, I was camping under the stars in the Davis Mountains in West Texas, two thirds of the way through my trip to Big Bend. So, you may ask, if you were going to Big Bend, what were you doing in the Davis Mountains?
The story starts here.
Through a combination of planning and a little luck, I managed to get four days off of work in a row. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity by taking my first trip to Big Bend. This was to be a solo adventure on the finest dirt roads that the West Texas desert country had to offer. I intended to leave the afternoon of Thursday, April 20th at about 1:00. It was my plan to slab it to Seminole Canyon State Park, and start hitting back roads from there.
Unfortunately, Thursday brought rain, and lots of it. In fact, had I left as planned, I would have had the misfortune of experiencing baseball sized hail on a motorcycle. I gladly put off my departure until Friday morning.
Ready To Head Out.
I made quick time on the highway, heading down I 35 through San Antonio and on to Hwy 90 West to Seminole Canyon. This part of the ride was quite uneventful. I arrived at Seminole Canyon at 5:00 pm, and set up camp. This left me just enough time to hike down to Panther Cave and get back by dark. The hike is an easy, flat gravel road that is about 3 miles each way. This was my first time in this part of the American desert, and it was beautiful.
Cactus In Bloom
It was just the right time of the year to see lots of desert millipedes. I took a nice closeup of one of my little buddies. Check out the reflection in his head. Yup, that's me kneeling down to take the shot.
Desert Millipede
Panther Cave was awesome, but you can't get close. I got a couple of snaps, but it is just too far away from the canyon rim for a good picture with my little camera. The panther in the cave is a 15 foot long painting of a panther done at least a couple of thousand years ago. The sunset was beautiful on the walk back.
Desert Sunset
I got back to camp near dark and decided I was pretty darn hungry. I got out my little stove and my dehydrated Santa Fe Chicken. Which, by the way, was quite tasty. I settled down at the picnic table to start cooking and felt something on my leg. Remembering the spider webs I saw when I arrived, I quickly jumped up. Fortunately for me and the others in the campground I managed to not shriek like a little girl. Upon closer inspection of the underside of the table, I found not one, but two black widow spiders. I'm glad I checked!!! (By the way, chain lube will take out a black widow pretty quick.)
I finished cooking my dinner and had a seat with my legs facing out and the table top to my back. I looked to my right and saw I had a dinner guest.
I don't think he's looking for any Santa Fe Chicken.
After and evening full of creepy crawlies, I decided to turn in for the night. I slept great, and awoke in good time to have breakfast, pack up, and make the tour of Fate Bell Cave. If you are down there, and can make the tour, it is most certainly worth the time. You get right up next to some truly amazing rock art. Nobody has a very solid idea about most of the art, but the ideas are fascinating to listen to.
Fate Bell Art
The art was awesome, but it was time to hit the road. I headed a short distance to Langtry and gassed up. From there I had an incredible ride up Pandale Road. Right before I hit the Pecos, I headed west on Fiedler Draw road which led to Pumpville Road and Hwy 349. This was about 60 mile of truly sublime dirt riding. I saw almost no one out there. I did see an odd sight: A large private jet on a ranch, out in the middle of nowhere. Sorry no picture, I was too busy riding and grinning. I took 349 to Dryden and headed West on 90 again. I gassed up in Sanderson in preparation for my next long dirt stretch.
I rode about 15 miles West and turned South on Longfellow Road. This section promised to be about 70 miles of wonderful dirt, but about 5 miles in I hit a gate that was clearly designed to prevent passage by hooligans like myself. With much dismay, I turned around. With only pavement between Big Bend and myself at this point, I ran WOT to the park on the slab. This burned gas fast, but I got there fast too.
I stopped for a quick picture as I arrived at the park.
Me at Big Bend.
I continued my ride into the park, hoping to spend the night in the Chisos Basin campground. As I rode into the basin, I was greeted with a mixed blessing of a beautiful sunset, and threatening skies.
Sunset through The Window
I arrived at the campground, and after some confusion as to which spots were available, I hurriedly pitched my tent. I made a point of staking it out and tensioning all my guy lines well. The weather did not look good.
Almost Here
We got about 30 minutes of really hard rain. I was glad I had done a good job on my tent. Not everyone's was standing after the storm. I mucked about and fixed myself some dinner. Once again, it was getting late and it was time to get some sleep. I secured my stuff and hit the sack. It was a bit chilly, and the sleeping bag felt good.
Sometime around 2 am, someone turned on the wind. I'm not talking about a breeze. I'm talking gale force. My tent was shaking like crazy, and about 1/4 of it was folding in on itself. I sat inside with my hands on the walls for about 20 minutes. At some point, I realized the KLR might get dropped, and I might not have the pleasure of doing it. I waited for a lull, and dashed outside. There was no rain, but I just about got blown over standing there. I lashed the KLR to a steel post, and got back into my tent. After about 10 more minutes, the wind turned off, and I fell back to sleep. The next morning, the campground looked like a disaster area. Most people's tents did not survive. I ate breakfast, packed, and headed out.
My intention was to ride some of the unmaintained roads in the park, and camp in the desert. The ranger I talked to suggested that the back roads were indeed pretty bad. Maverick road, a regular gravel road had been washed out in flash floods in the storm, and was closed. I did not think much of this since I, in my naive state, was going to ride some more serious roads.
Let me say that when I lived in Colorado, I 4-wheeled on a lot of forest roads in the mountains. In the past, when I had been warned abut the condition of a road, I always found it to be much easier than described. I figured, based on what I had heard, that these "Big Bend Back Roads" would be challenging, but entirely doable. This was not the case. I was fed a big slice of humble pie.
I rode down Glenn Springs road all the way to Black Gap. Black Gap was supposed to be the hard road. I did not intend to ride it. But Glenn Springs was no picnic at this point either. It was here I was confronted with a deep gully with two to three foot deep ruts washed out of it. In between this point and the beginning, the road was nothing more than a series of rock piles, and muddy washes, one after another. every once in a while I would hit a nice section and think, "Cool, I made it through the hard part." As soon as I thought this, up popped another obstacle. I had enough water for a 10 mile walk, but I was in no mood to try. If I was with a group, I would have been happy to continue, but solo, with no support, I thought better of it and turned around.
Me On Glenn Springs Road
Glenn Springs Road
As it has been said, "A man has got to know his limitations." I enjoyed a paved tour of the park from this point. I rode down to Rio Grande Village, then back up and across and then down the Ross Maxwell Scenic Road. This was a beautiful ride and it allowed me to test the other end of the dual sport spectrum. The new Gripsters performed incredibly on the twisty pavement. It made for some very fun riding.
I was cruising along, enjoying the speed and the wind. (It was getting pretty hot.) I came over a rise, and WHOA NELLY! I guess the storm did move some stuff around the desert floor last night.
This is a paved road. No wonder the dirt was so torn up!
Well, I got down to Cottonwood Campground and had some (correction: a lot) of water. It was hot. It was Africa hot! I was dousing my shirt down with water while I rode, and it was drying in about 10 minutes. I was not going to spend the night in a tent down here, so I explored my options. I wanted to stay somewhere new every night, to the chisos Basin was out. I saw that there was a campground in Study Butte, so once again, I headed North.
Goodbye Big Bend
When I got to Study Butte, I had to check the city limits sign twice. It said Study Butte, but I would swear I was in hades. Wearing full gear is not comfortable in that kind of heat even if it is mesh. I bought some gas, some Gatorade, and an ice cream bar. At this point, I was too darn hot to even think about staying here, so I continued North. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew an increase in elevation meant cooler weather. I headed toward Alpine with the goal of cooler weather in mind. It was a beautiful road even if it was straight as an arrow.
Highway 118
Soon, I found myself at a Border Patrol check point. "Are you an American citizen," they ask? My answer is a short, "Yes Sir." (I'm wearing earplugs and am not equipped for much conversation.) I am waved on. As I clear the corner of the building, I see a pickup with its bed peeled open like a sardine can. Stuck to the "lid" is brick after brick of something wrapped in plastic. I'm betting it's not Lipton tea. Alas, the young, hard-charging, Border Patrol agent will not let me take a picture. "This is federal property. Photography is not allowed," he said sternly. I decided it was not in my best interest to explain to him that he was wrong, so on I rode.
A while later, I arrived in Alpine, TX. Still hot, but bearable. I got my now regular supply of fuel and Gatorade, and, this time, a little oil for the KLR. Alpine was a cool little town, but having seen a mileage sign referring to Fort Davis, I had a better idea for a place to stay. I wanted a picture before I headed out and found this great mural.
Alpine, TX
There was a Harley bar across the street. I had set my camera on timer mode and placed it about 50 feet from my KLR. After I pushed the shutter release, I had to haul over to the KLR before the picture snapped. Now, imaging about 5 Harleys with their riders and chicks sitting at a stoplight across the street, and some dude in ATTGAT running across a parking lot to his bike. It had to be a pretty funny sight. I would have loved to hear what they were saying or thinking when they saw me.
I had heard that the Davis Mountain were really nice, so that was my destination for the night. About 30 miles outside of Alpine, lay my next night's rest. Let me say that Big Bend was spectacular, but something about the Davis Mountains struck me. I'm not sure what it was, but this area of Texas is truly beautiful. Maybe it's because it reminded me so much of Colorado. I'm planning a return trip with thte wife and kid as soon as I can get out there again.
I got myself situated at camp and rode up Skyline Drive. The views were stunning, and the sunset was awesome.
Enjoying the Cool Air
Davis Mountain Sunset
It was about dark when I got back to camp, and I was starving. I repeated my dinner routine, with one exception. I watched the folks next to me do battle with a javalina. Ok, they did not do battle, but by the noise they made, you would have thought so. They just chased him off. I relaxed and stared at the most amazing night sky I've seen since I was last in Utah. It got downright chilly and I appreciated having a down bag for the first time on the trip. I needed a good sleep. The next morning was the start of my marathon 500 mile slab ride home to Austin.
The morning came bright and clear and cool. It promised to be a good day to ride. I bought my son a t-shirt at the gift shop and headed home.
Goodbye Davis Mountains
I rode along a nice twisty road until I hit the interstate. From there, it was just a lot of high speed heavy crosswind riding. About 80 miles West of Ozona, TX, I saw two people in a car broken down on a frontage road with nothing and no one else in sight. I cut across the shoulder and offered what I could. It turned out they had AAA and just needed the use of a cell phone. I was glad I could help, and got on my way. I hit Ozona at the hottest part of the day. Needing food and fuel, I pulled over. I decided to putt around town and find some locka eatery that looked good. Unfortunately, after a bit of looking, I decided to settle on the DQ back by the highway.
As I pulled in to park under a shade tree, I switched off my enging, and ehard the most unusual bubbling sound. "Hmmm..." I thought, "My gas tank must be boiling." I'd read about it happening, but had yet to experience it. I then looked at my temp gauge. Seeing it was at the high end of the scale, I realized the sound was coolant belching into the reserve tank. Fortunately, I did not loose any. I let the KLR cool while I ate lunch, and gassed up. I did not feel like messing about with the fuse, so I hit the highway right away. The temp satyed down at speed, so I knew was good to go.
Well, about an hour later, in Junction, I decided it would probably be a good idea to check the fuse. It was running plenty cool, so I figured that was it. My coolant level had stayed good since Ozona. Indeed,when I got to the fuse, it had blown.
I had planned on getting home that night (Monday), but it was already evening, and I did not want to ride through the deer infested Texas Hill Country at dusk. I decided to stay at South Llano State Park in Junction for one last night on the road. I got a primo camping spot, and headed to town for some eats. It was a hot, humid night, but I slept OK.
When I woke up in the morning, I found my front rim nearly sitting on the ground. Closer inspection of my tire showed several thorns. The largets, when pulled, released the final puff of air in the tube. (Note to self: When riding around the desert, check your tires for thorns.) This was two days ofter I had been on Big Bend's back roads. Yikes! If I had not stopped, I may very well have gone flat at freeway speeds.
I did learn that a lantern hook makes a dandy improvised motorcycle lift.
Working on the Front
I made it home in time to get a much needed shower and get to work 45 minutes late.
It was a great trip. I learned a lot about Texas, the KLR, myself, and a bunch of other stuff. I did not ride nearly as much dirt as I had hoped, but I rode a lot further than I planned. The KLR was up to the task. It willingly went where I wanted it to go. I saw things I never would have seen in a car. I went places I never would have gone. Having no real plan left me open to whatever came. I'm looking forward to the next long ride. 1350 miles later my KLR smile is bigger than ever.
_________________
2006 Aztec Red
Winston 6wt
St. Croix 5wt
Scott 5wt
G. Loomis 8wt
The story starts here.
Through a combination of planning and a little luck, I managed to get four days off of work in a row. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity by taking my first trip to Big Bend. This was to be a solo adventure on the finest dirt roads that the West Texas desert country had to offer. I intended to leave the afternoon of Thursday, April 20th at about 1:00. It was my plan to slab it to Seminole Canyon State Park, and start hitting back roads from there.
Unfortunately, Thursday brought rain, and lots of it. In fact, had I left as planned, I would have had the misfortune of experiencing baseball sized hail on a motorcycle. I gladly put off my departure until Friday morning.
Ready To Head Out.
I made quick time on the highway, heading down I 35 through San Antonio and on to Hwy 90 West to Seminole Canyon. This part of the ride was quite uneventful. I arrived at Seminole Canyon at 5:00 pm, and set up camp. This left me just enough time to hike down to Panther Cave and get back by dark. The hike is an easy, flat gravel road that is about 3 miles each way. This was my first time in this part of the American desert, and it was beautiful.
Cactus In Bloom
It was just the right time of the year to see lots of desert millipedes. I took a nice closeup of one of my little buddies. Check out the reflection in his head. Yup, that's me kneeling down to take the shot.
Desert Millipede
Panther Cave was awesome, but you can't get close. I got a couple of snaps, but it is just too far away from the canyon rim for a good picture with my little camera. The panther in the cave is a 15 foot long painting of a panther done at least a couple of thousand years ago. The sunset was beautiful on the walk back.
Desert Sunset
I got back to camp near dark and decided I was pretty darn hungry. I got out my little stove and my dehydrated Santa Fe Chicken. Which, by the way, was quite tasty. I settled down at the picnic table to start cooking and felt something on my leg. Remembering the spider webs I saw when I arrived, I quickly jumped up. Fortunately for me and the others in the campground I managed to not shriek like a little girl. Upon closer inspection of the underside of the table, I found not one, but two black widow spiders. I'm glad I checked!!! (By the way, chain lube will take out a black widow pretty quick.)
I finished cooking my dinner and had a seat with my legs facing out and the table top to my back. I looked to my right and saw I had a dinner guest.
I don't think he's looking for any Santa Fe Chicken.
After and evening full of creepy crawlies, I decided to turn in for the night. I slept great, and awoke in good time to have breakfast, pack up, and make the tour of Fate Bell Cave. If you are down there, and can make the tour, it is most certainly worth the time. You get right up next to some truly amazing rock art. Nobody has a very solid idea about most of the art, but the ideas are fascinating to listen to.
Fate Bell Art
The art was awesome, but it was time to hit the road. I headed a short distance to Langtry and gassed up. From there I had an incredible ride up Pandale Road. Right before I hit the Pecos, I headed west on Fiedler Draw road which led to Pumpville Road and Hwy 349. This was about 60 mile of truly sublime dirt riding. I saw almost no one out there. I did see an odd sight: A large private jet on a ranch, out in the middle of nowhere. Sorry no picture, I was too busy riding and grinning. I took 349 to Dryden and headed West on 90 again. I gassed up in Sanderson in preparation for my next long dirt stretch.
I rode about 15 miles West and turned South on Longfellow Road. This section promised to be about 70 miles of wonderful dirt, but about 5 miles in I hit a gate that was clearly designed to prevent passage by hooligans like myself. With much dismay, I turned around. With only pavement between Big Bend and myself at this point, I ran WOT to the park on the slab. This burned gas fast, but I got there fast too.
I stopped for a quick picture as I arrived at the park.
Me at Big Bend.
I continued my ride into the park, hoping to spend the night in the Chisos Basin campground. As I rode into the basin, I was greeted with a mixed blessing of a beautiful sunset, and threatening skies.
Sunset through The Window
I arrived at the campground, and after some confusion as to which spots were available, I hurriedly pitched my tent. I made a point of staking it out and tensioning all my guy lines well. The weather did not look good.
Almost Here
We got about 30 minutes of really hard rain. I was glad I had done a good job on my tent. Not everyone's was standing after the storm. I mucked about and fixed myself some dinner. Once again, it was getting late and it was time to get some sleep. I secured my stuff and hit the sack. It was a bit chilly, and the sleeping bag felt good.
Sometime around 2 am, someone turned on the wind. I'm not talking about a breeze. I'm talking gale force. My tent was shaking like crazy, and about 1/4 of it was folding in on itself. I sat inside with my hands on the walls for about 20 minutes. At some point, I realized the KLR might get dropped, and I might not have the pleasure of doing it. I waited for a lull, and dashed outside. There was no rain, but I just about got blown over standing there. I lashed the KLR to a steel post, and got back into my tent. After about 10 more minutes, the wind turned off, and I fell back to sleep. The next morning, the campground looked like a disaster area. Most people's tents did not survive. I ate breakfast, packed, and headed out.
My intention was to ride some of the unmaintained roads in the park, and camp in the desert. The ranger I talked to suggested that the back roads were indeed pretty bad. Maverick road, a regular gravel road had been washed out in flash floods in the storm, and was closed. I did not think much of this since I, in my naive state, was going to ride some more serious roads.
Let me say that when I lived in Colorado, I 4-wheeled on a lot of forest roads in the mountains. In the past, when I had been warned abut the condition of a road, I always found it to be much easier than described. I figured, based on what I had heard, that these "Big Bend Back Roads" would be challenging, but entirely doable. This was not the case. I was fed a big slice of humble pie.
I rode down Glenn Springs road all the way to Black Gap. Black Gap was supposed to be the hard road. I did not intend to ride it. But Glenn Springs was no picnic at this point either. It was here I was confronted with a deep gully with two to three foot deep ruts washed out of it. In between this point and the beginning, the road was nothing more than a series of rock piles, and muddy washes, one after another. every once in a while I would hit a nice section and think, "Cool, I made it through the hard part." As soon as I thought this, up popped another obstacle. I had enough water for a 10 mile walk, but I was in no mood to try. If I was with a group, I would have been happy to continue, but solo, with no support, I thought better of it and turned around.
Me On Glenn Springs Road
Glenn Springs Road
As it has been said, "A man has got to know his limitations." I enjoyed a paved tour of the park from this point. I rode down to Rio Grande Village, then back up and across and then down the Ross Maxwell Scenic Road. This was a beautiful ride and it allowed me to test the other end of the dual sport spectrum. The new Gripsters performed incredibly on the twisty pavement. It made for some very fun riding.
I was cruising along, enjoying the speed and the wind. (It was getting pretty hot.) I came over a rise, and WHOA NELLY! I guess the storm did move some stuff around the desert floor last night.
This is a paved road. No wonder the dirt was so torn up!
Well, I got down to Cottonwood Campground and had some (correction: a lot) of water. It was hot. It was Africa hot! I was dousing my shirt down with water while I rode, and it was drying in about 10 minutes. I was not going to spend the night in a tent down here, so I explored my options. I wanted to stay somewhere new every night, to the chisos Basin was out. I saw that there was a campground in Study Butte, so once again, I headed North.
Goodbye Big Bend
When I got to Study Butte, I had to check the city limits sign twice. It said Study Butte, but I would swear I was in hades. Wearing full gear is not comfortable in that kind of heat even if it is mesh. I bought some gas, some Gatorade, and an ice cream bar. At this point, I was too darn hot to even think about staying here, so I continued North. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew an increase in elevation meant cooler weather. I headed toward Alpine with the goal of cooler weather in mind. It was a beautiful road even if it was straight as an arrow.
Highway 118
Soon, I found myself at a Border Patrol check point. "Are you an American citizen," they ask? My answer is a short, "Yes Sir." (I'm wearing earplugs and am not equipped for much conversation.) I am waved on. As I clear the corner of the building, I see a pickup with its bed peeled open like a sardine can. Stuck to the "lid" is brick after brick of something wrapped in plastic. I'm betting it's not Lipton tea. Alas, the young, hard-charging, Border Patrol agent will not let me take a picture. "This is federal property. Photography is not allowed," he said sternly. I decided it was not in my best interest to explain to him that he was wrong, so on I rode.
A while later, I arrived in Alpine, TX. Still hot, but bearable. I got my now regular supply of fuel and Gatorade, and, this time, a little oil for the KLR. Alpine was a cool little town, but having seen a mileage sign referring to Fort Davis, I had a better idea for a place to stay. I wanted a picture before I headed out and found this great mural.
Alpine, TX
There was a Harley bar across the street. I had set my camera on timer mode and placed it about 50 feet from my KLR. After I pushed the shutter release, I had to haul over to the KLR before the picture snapped. Now, imaging about 5 Harleys with their riders and chicks sitting at a stoplight across the street, and some dude in ATTGAT running across a parking lot to his bike. It had to be a pretty funny sight. I would have loved to hear what they were saying or thinking when they saw me.
I had heard that the Davis Mountain were really nice, so that was my destination for the night. About 30 miles outside of Alpine, lay my next night's rest. Let me say that Big Bend was spectacular, but something about the Davis Mountains struck me. I'm not sure what it was, but this area of Texas is truly beautiful. Maybe it's because it reminded me so much of Colorado. I'm planning a return trip with thte wife and kid as soon as I can get out there again.
I got myself situated at camp and rode up Skyline Drive. The views were stunning, and the sunset was awesome.
Enjoying the Cool Air
Davis Mountain Sunset
It was about dark when I got back to camp, and I was starving. I repeated my dinner routine, with one exception. I watched the folks next to me do battle with a javalina. Ok, they did not do battle, but by the noise they made, you would have thought so. They just chased him off. I relaxed and stared at the most amazing night sky I've seen since I was last in Utah. It got downright chilly and I appreciated having a down bag for the first time on the trip. I needed a good sleep. The next morning was the start of my marathon 500 mile slab ride home to Austin.
The morning came bright and clear and cool. It promised to be a good day to ride. I bought my son a t-shirt at the gift shop and headed home.
Goodbye Davis Mountains
I rode along a nice twisty road until I hit the interstate. From there, it was just a lot of high speed heavy crosswind riding. About 80 miles West of Ozona, TX, I saw two people in a car broken down on a frontage road with nothing and no one else in sight. I cut across the shoulder and offered what I could. It turned out they had AAA and just needed the use of a cell phone. I was glad I could help, and got on my way. I hit Ozona at the hottest part of the day. Needing food and fuel, I pulled over. I decided to putt around town and find some locka eatery that looked good. Unfortunately, after a bit of looking, I decided to settle on the DQ back by the highway.
As I pulled in to park under a shade tree, I switched off my enging, and ehard the most unusual bubbling sound. "Hmmm..." I thought, "My gas tank must be boiling." I'd read about it happening, but had yet to experience it. I then looked at my temp gauge. Seeing it was at the high end of the scale, I realized the sound was coolant belching into the reserve tank. Fortunately, I did not loose any. I let the KLR cool while I ate lunch, and gassed up. I did not feel like messing about with the fuse, so I hit the highway right away. The temp satyed down at speed, so I knew was good to go.
Well, about an hour later, in Junction, I decided it would probably be a good idea to check the fuse. It was running plenty cool, so I figured that was it. My coolant level had stayed good since Ozona. Indeed,when I got to the fuse, it had blown.
I had planned on getting home that night (Monday), but it was already evening, and I did not want to ride through the deer infested Texas Hill Country at dusk. I decided to stay at South Llano State Park in Junction for one last night on the road. I got a primo camping spot, and headed to town for some eats. It was a hot, humid night, but I slept OK.
When I woke up in the morning, I found my front rim nearly sitting on the ground. Closer inspection of my tire showed several thorns. The largets, when pulled, released the final puff of air in the tube. (Note to self: When riding around the desert, check your tires for thorns.) This was two days ofter I had been on Big Bend's back roads. Yikes! If I had not stopped, I may very well have gone flat at freeway speeds.
I did learn that a lantern hook makes a dandy improvised motorcycle lift.
Working on the Front
I made it home in time to get a much needed shower and get to work 45 minutes late.
It was a great trip. I learned a lot about Texas, the KLR, myself, and a bunch of other stuff. I did not ride nearly as much dirt as I had hoped, but I rode a lot further than I planned. The KLR was up to the task. It willingly went where I wanted it to go. I saw things I never would have seen in a car. I went places I never would have gone. Having no real plan left me open to whatever came. I'm looking forward to the next long ride. 1350 miles later my KLR smile is bigger than ever.
_________________
2006 Aztec Red
Winston 6wt
St. Croix 5wt
Scott 5wt
G. Loomis 8wt
