I've had way too many "best" days - probably more than I can remember

One of them happened a long time ago, on a Lake Chelan camping trip with my father and brothers when I was in high school. We stopped and fished most every sizeable creek that empties into the lake, and me being the oldest and fastest (and heavily into cross country running at the time) would pretty much take off upstream and just keep heading up, leaving my brothers down by the lake to catch fish in the easy water. I fished a dry fly all day, and in every pool or behind every big rock would be a nice trout that I would catch and release as I moved upstream. Low down near the lake would be rainbows. Mid way up I would start encountering rainbow/cutthroat hybrids, then I would hit an impassible waterfall - above that would be native cutthroat for a thousand feet or more straight up. I attempted to keep count but eventually couldn't remember which hundred I was on. A few of these creeks headed in little lakes that sounded like the one Cleo was on - huge cutts with not a clue - hook one and the rest would come running to find out what was going on. I know I fished areas probably not even visited much today, and this was in the 60's. I also know there is still no trail into some of these lakes, and you would need to be a crazy kid track star to get up to them the way I did. Nice to know something is still likely the same as it was - although I'll never find out