Madison River in the Park
Karl is always the first one awake, he gets the fire going. Ken is the java man, I don't get up until he does. An hour later the rest of us are awake and hungry for breakfast.
Soon enough I've got food on the griddle. Bacon, eggs, Kraft singles, buns, catsup and Tobasco. Yup we're having WT's Infamous Breakfast Sandwiches. Everyone thanks me for cooking. "How were they?" I ask. "Good enough," and "It'll make a turd" are the answers I get. Those guys love it when I cook.
Ken and Karl went to their favorite riffle down by Riverside Drive. Karl caught a few nice fish. Ken got himself the "fattest brown ever." After that they drove up the Firehole and picked off risers the rest of the day. "Caddis when the sun's out, baetis when it's cloudy," Karl later reported.
Chet, Sven and I started out in a run below Riverside Drive. Chet caught a 14 inch brown, not bad for his first fish in the Park. Sven landed a few "decent" browns. I landed one "decent" brown. Can't speak for Sven but for me "decent" translates to "not nearly as big as I'd hoped for but better than a whitey."
After lunch (beer and peanuts) we three drove down to the Geezer Hole near the park boundary. Sven elected to go upstream, Chet and I walked downstream.
I swung through a few runs without touching a single fish. Chet had missed a big one and was still shaking his head about it. Then he told me that was going to head back. "Good idea," I said, "see you back at camp."
As soon as he was out of sight I began to fish his water. I worked my way down the pool never wading in deeper than my ankles. I cast my big streamer out to the main toungue of current and let it swing back across the gravel bar I was standing on. I took two big fish before I had to walk back to the truck. One rainbow and one a brown both of them well fed and measuring about 18 inches. The rainbow took the fly when I was stripping it in. The brown took the fly on the swing. Using the Scientific Method I extrapolated that sometimes I should strip the fly and other times I should just let it swing. Brilliant eh?
On the way out I walked by the Barns Hole where who else but 'ol Sven is in the buffet line with a couple other geezers.
"How's it going out there?" I ask him.
"Good! I'm swinging soft hackles. Picked up three or four browns."
"Any size to 'em?" I ask.
"They were decent."
2 comments:
1st 2 paragraphs caught my attention. from there it got a little too disconnected by adding the additional "personnel" electing to do this or Wherein doing that. Like it better when it's about you, your thoughts and the fish, the action as seen thru your eyes and guts. Sven, Ken, Karl et al, aside from the offhand comments similar to the ending in Day 1, aren't what this is about.Who gives a shit whether Chet had to sleep in a car or not.
Still good stuff but interested in where it's going. Started out as an introspective treasure hunt but sounding like it could turn into a brokenback fishin trip wherein you all sit around the campfire sippin chardonney and discussing the best taffeta for your fishin vest.
Hey-- free speech and i ain't no fuckin editor or english prof.
Thanks for calling in, always nice to hear from the 509. By the way, what's taffeta?
WT
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