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Show Pitting , ByJonetWollis , (WJlffj Onopening day my fishermen went to rZrt Pond. I wanted to go, but I was 2 invited, probably because I do not "to Caller's Pond to fish. For eight years we lived next to Zelph d Tess Calder. They were good Tehbors. Their daughters were raised id gone. but they tolerated 1,i,vi"g"ext I Lor to a family of five small children 1 Lrv well. Tess even kept her cool when mv three sons raided her mailbox and distributed her mail among the neighbors. Zelph and Tess owned Calder's Pond. Obviously, it is named for them. You could fish there if you paid for the fish you caught. When Zelph built the dam which created the pond, other land owners on Diamond Mountain claimed rights to the water filling the reservoir. Apparently Ap-parently the problem was resolved. Calder's Pond remained. Every fall the Calder's drained the ' pond and harvested the fish. For a few fenzied weeks they caught, cleaned and roze trout to sell to restaurants throughout Utah. You could go to Brat-ten's Brat-ten's and eat trout from Calder's Pond. I always wanted to go there, but a trek to Diamond and Jones Hole to fish was an all day adventure. Each year Jack told a new fish story about Jones Hole and of the troublesome descent into in-to this favorite fishing spot. Calder's was in the same general direction and was difficult to find, so "I n was told. After Zelph died, Calder's Pond was later sold to Wildlife Resources. By that time there was a paved road and a fish hatchery at Jones Hole. We fished and picnicked there often, but I still wanted to find Calder's Pond. One Monday evening our avid fisherman fisher-man son, who had fished at Calder's several times, tired of hearing me say I wanted to go there. "Let's go," he said. So we packed a lunch and went. "Avoid that pile of driftwood," he warned, "It's full of skunks." It was and we did. The fishermen caught their limits while the rest of us gathered snailshells along the shoreline. When it grew dark, we built a small fire and ate our sandwiches sand-wiches while seated on the damp beach. In my mind I pictured Calder's Pond as a man-made reservoir full of fish. Instead In-stead it was a small jeweled lake complete com-plete with fishing boats, matching mountain, pines in all the right places and a sky full of cumulus clouds. A lovely spot. I sketched several views of it on the only paper I could find, the back of an envelope, and lost the envelope before we reached home. Last year we went to Jones Hole for the fishing opener. On the way back, just for me, we took a detour to Calder's Pond. This time I was equipped with a camera. While the fishermen caught fish, I caught pictures of driftwood, rocks, fishing boats, windblown water, dying pines and storm-filled sky. The pile of driftwood and its skunks were gone. It wasn't evening, but the magic was still there. My pictures didn't do justice to the spot. The next time I go to Calder's Pond I will try to catch it with paints and brushes on canvas. I won't succeed. It's impossible to capture mother nature at her best. |