McIntyre Canyon has been one area that has always drawn me. As a boy I would cycle up and try my hand at fishing the pools near the entry of the canyon. It wasn’t very far up before the walls closed in preventing further exploration, so one had to be content with available deep pools. I don’t remember catching any fish. I do remember how bitterly cold the water was though, you only have to fall in once and the memory stays with you.
When I was a teenager, the upper areas of McIntyre Creek were accessible by car on a track little more than a cow trail. The stream was just as cold but we swam in it anyways and lay on the hot rocks in the sun.
Ten years ago, maybe more, I went on a bighorn sheep count in the spring with the Sportsmans Association. Our area or search was just north of McIntyre Canyon. We angled from our drop off point to the Canyon. Some of our group walked over to the edge with ease and looked over. As I drew closer to the edge of the cliff I felt dizzy, and decided that hanging back would be the wiser part of bravery. As a child I would not have had a problem looking over the edge, but as an adult it is something I could not do. Our group moved on from the Canyon and we fanned out over a sand hill looking for those elusive sheep. We didn’t see any that day, but we had fun looking.
I have not been back to the Canyon, although I did fly over it last spring on a sight seeing trip with one of my sisters, that was fun! I wonder if there is trout in the creek? The locals would know, I should think.