Well since Ed has kind of given the brief overview of the trip, I guess I will give my version of events. As I sleepily look at this monitor I will try to seperate the fact from the percieved fact. All the rest of the guys that made it, by all means throw in you part as well.
I left Friday and hung out with Grizz (Thanks again for the hospitality
) grabbed the last of the essentials needed for a day of pounding the water, and finished up the with a jig/fly tying session (I am still nowhere close to a Kramer, or anyone else patient enough to do it as a living). Saturday morning came earlier than I anticipated. I must have burned more energy than I thought cursing broken thread, hooks slipping in the vise jaws, and unruly hackle. Fire up the rigs, and off we go in true Dukes of Hazzard style.
We get to the launch (if you are creative enough to call it that) and I notice that there's another set of headlights coming up from behind, but don't really give it a second thought since I had become perplexed on how you're supposed to rappel a drift boat down the side of a small cliff
. After launch I head up to the parking lot, and am greeted on the road by a red VB hat and what looks like a 14 year old kid with a goatee...my first introduction to Ed. I say hello, and proceed farther down the road. Now I see Dan, the Kink of run-on sentances, greet him with a morning insult that I'm sure was funny, but I can't remember. Get parked and after we are all in the water get the rest of the introductions out of the way. Time for the water.
We just start and of course first fish goes to Ed...dang that guy! For a spaniard he sure seems to have the luck of the irish
! We all fall in to line and start prospecting heavily the beautiful gin clear water that lays before us. I have to admit I felt like a kid that just found a new piece of woods to explore. Each stretch of water held promise, and each stretch was worked like a fish was expected. With a run like this there was a whole lot of jockeying for position, but definately enough space for courtesy and etiquette to be used, which it was. I was in the back, but I used superior nascar like manuevering to get up close and try to spy on Ed and Dan. By the first coffee relief point I can say with confidence Eddy was schooling me on getting fish to bite. I'd like to say that Dan had some part as boat operator, but I think Dan gets suspicious of what I'm up to when I'm being nice
.
While at the first stop we stretch our legs and talk a bit, after Ed hooks another fish
, then as true fishermen we look at everone's elses' gear and hardware. At this point I showed Dan my new fly rod I had built. I tell him to give it a try and realize that's like giving a gorilla a new tire
. He starts casting it in a manner that I'm sure was payback from what I said to him that morning, and all I can say is, "Damnit Dan, I just tied that fly. Let me tie on another one if you're so intent of crackering it off!" He then gives his standard "I gotcha that time" smile and proceeds to make some really nice casts. Also true to fisherman form he then compliments my fly line because the rod sucks, I then decide at this point that it's officially on between the "Kink" and I
.
The run was truly a beautiful stretch of water and there was a good deal of banter between the boats. I would like to say I took the high road, But I'm no angel. As the day progressed the sun burned off the mist and it warmed up nicely (F'n hot!). Now starts the downward spiral of a otherwise pristine trip. With the heat comes the removel of various clothing and skin exposure that has not seen the light since last summer opener. With the progression of the day certain people, myself included, procceded to undergo a chamleon like transition from glow stick white to fire engine red. The funniest part to me is in the distance I see these to white torso's in a metal boat, and it reminds me of a Cialis Commercial gone terribly wrong
. We're still fishing and the fish are still not biting. After another rest stop Dan tells me that I'm starting to get red, I tell him he's getting the same way, then go put my shirt back on. By this time I think the only thing I didn't put on the end of my line was a kitchen sink, and I know I'm not the only one
.
The hardest part of fishing this stretch was the realization that the farther we traveled the closer we came to the end of the trip. On a day like this I wanted to stay forever. Great people, great times, and a lot of laughs. I wished my buddy could have come too, but like a lot of people he had responsibilities that prevented him from coming.
By the time we got to the take out, we had all enjoyed a little cuttie action, and experienced some of the most pure aspects I find alluring to the nature of why we fish. Granted no steelie was placed on the end of the end of our hooks, but we were blessed with fantastic weather, good friends, nature's beauty, and a great BBQ. In the end I was left with more blessings than landed fish. New experiences, new techniques, and a reminder that fishing is a humbling sport.
As I sit here typing this report I raise a cold cup of coffee to honor those who could make the trip, those who we've fished with that could not make the trip, the legends that brought us together to fish, and sponsors like Rvrfshr, Clear Drift, and Dick Nite.
Thanks to Dan for setting this trip up, Ed for the comic relief, Grizz and Beardy for trading stories and showing me the wrong route through the boulder garden
, Fozzie and your boat crew. Yes I got skunked, as we all did, but I will always be willing to fish with this stinking group again.
Looking forward to the comments from the rest of you, and the pictures Ed
.
Finfollower
