So Much Water...
...So Little Time!
70
Staying to the open land we hiked downhill to the stream and I’ll be damn, there was a beaver dam.
We fished for hours, tossing little hopper patterns into every pool we could get close enough to without spooking the cutthroats into hiding. It was tight quarters at times, the willow thickets were better than head high. So you had to take to the stream to move forward. Moving slowly and putting down footsteps, quiet as possible, to avoid spooking fish, contrasted heavily with my almost constant singing of the Gilligan’s Island theme. Hopefully avoiding any surprise encounters with bears. It must have worked as we caught plenty and didn’t get eaten by any bears.
The hike out was worse than the hike in. I tried to stay closer to the stream at first, but the willow was too thick to move through and the stream was just too slick to wade at a good speed without being just plain dangerous. SO, it was back up into the woods.
Eventually we got back to the truck. I was dirty, covered in spider webs and my leg muscles burned like an all-day lower body workout at the gym. A dip in the steam eased the pain, washed away the spider webs and a cold beer quenched the thirst. It was a great day of fishing and by the time I finished that beer, I understood that the reward of taking a path less traveled far out weighted the effort.