Kicking Butt and Breaking Things

I managed to dodge a bullet - much to the disappointment of a lot of vultures...er, people.

Whatever I had, didn't kill me and I wound up convalescing on the road, which, as we all know, is the ideal place to get one's health in order....which may explain why I'm still trying to shake this crud.

When all was said and done, I found myself with a wafer-thin opportunity to fish...and then it SNOWED FOR THREE DAYS and completely erased any chances that I had of hitting the river.

And that, kids, is unjust and inhumane - plain and simple.

Now I could point the finger at any number of people for this, but will instead, blame the Amish on my misfortune (since the odds are in my favor that they'll never see this).

Which is good, since I'm not sure how I would handle being on the receiving end of a Mennonite beat-down...

"Brother Angler, thou hast gone too far! Prepare thy buttocks for a righteous kicking...just as soon as we finish raising this barn."

Jump forward a week or so, and the stars have aligned: Saturday's forecast was showing sunny, dry and 55 degrees, and my schedule was WFO. If ever there was a time to squeal like a little school girl, this would be it.

But I refrained, being that I'm a guy.

Instead, I opted to pee myself, while leaving little concentric circles on the carpet, like an over-excited puppy, as I danced around in joy at the prospect of hitting the water in some mighty fine weather.

By early Friday night, my bags were packed and my gear was stacked. The only thing standing between me and the river's embrace was about 5 hours of sleep. Stoopid need for sleep...

Funny, it takes an act of divine proportions to drag my rusty frame out of bed on a morning I have to work. Not so on fishing days - alarm goes off, and I'm out of the rack before I'm fully awake, dragging the sandman, kicking and screaming, down the hall.

Its all about priorities, I guess.

For once I actually timed it right on the money - I got to the water's edge just as it got light enough to see. I scoped out the Family Pool first, but didn't see a whole lot of action to be had there, so moved on up to the Ice Box.

And, as usual, there were fish a-plenty. Throughout the day, I hooked and played quite a few - several which I lost...one to the rock and three more to popped hooks and snapped tippet. The weather was spectacular, and the fishing was just as good.

I actually managed to net half-a-dozen nice fish...and wouldn't you know it, my video camera decided it didn't want to play anymore somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd fish.

So much for that - it's been a good little camera, and it's seen it's share of abuse. It's endured ridicule by it's older twin 'brothers', the SONYs, and my son and his friends as they set out to capture proof of the afterlife. It's been dropped, frozen, baked and rolled over (long story).

I think it's safe to say that I got my money's worth from it, especially being that it was a freebie from a client to begin with.

Oh, and the trail of broken items doesn't end there, either. Oh no...

There had been a fish that I had watched all day - parked further out in the river, and riding the sandy bottom tight. From time to time I would throw a few casts his way, just on the off-chance I could get him to go for it.

Finally, late in the day, as the canyon was moving into shadows, I tossed my line his way. Once. Twice. And on the third try, I set him. He wasn't freakishly large, but he wasn't small, either - I'd say average for this spot, which is in the 20 inch range. A nice fish, and even more impressive when he came out of the water.

And as he did, I stripped the excess line, and brought my pole back, like I've done countless times before....only this time, I heard a loud CRACK!

WTF? My rod simply snapped. Broke. In two. I just sat there and stared at the damn thing, as the top half slid down the line and into the water. So I started hauling by hand...basically horsing the fish in, until the tippet gave out and cut the fish loose.

As great as the fishing had been, it was a real buzz-kill to prematurely end the day like this.

I wish I could say that my rod broke as I grappled with a beast of a fish - a record-sized cut-bow that was fighting like hell to get away, while I tirelessly struggled to get him to net. But I can't.

But, it was all worth it - I can always use an excuse to buy a new video camera and the folks over at TFO will be more than happy to help me out on the rod-end of things. Yeah, in terms of fishing days, they don't get much better than this after a long winter.

But that doesn't mean I still can't blame the Amish for the camera and rod...