So, we arrived around 8pm. We unloaded a case of beer...and other stuff - like who cares? Then we all stood outside because it was rumored that the space station could be seen in the northwestern sky at 8:26. But, unfortunately, the Native Americans built the mountains far too tall, so we were screwed. But, ahhh...to see the stars again!
Around 11, when San had fallen asleep, Mike D and I went to the garage to shoot some darts. For those of you unaware - Mike's record against me in darts is 145-1. Well, shit on a log, at about 1:30am, I finally got my groove back! After years of fucking groovelessness, I was in the zone! So, the All-Time Record now stands at 149-5. But, it took until 3am and 7 beers to establish said record. So, at 9am the next morning I was, how you say, hurtin' ?
After a cup of coffee and aspirin, Mike and I geared-up and walked to Chalk Creek behind the cabin. I decided to use a nymph and promptly went to Hole #2. Here I have always had luck catching a brown trout. But, Hole #2 is guarded by an overhanging pine branch, so casting to it is nothing but a challenge. Well, I lost my whole rig - nymph, strike indicator and a foot of leader - in about five casts, as a tree behind me caught my line. So, I decided to move to a dry fly - a Goddard caddis. Well, I had a couple strikes, but nothing landed. I worked my way down the creek and, attempting to cast to Hole #8, I snagged again on a tree branch. Well, now most of my leader was gone, I had lost my tippet somewhere (later found in my wader leg) and I was feeling down (well, as down as one can get while fishing!). So, I had to tie on a huge stimulator pattern, because the leader wouldn't fit through any smaller pattern.
Meanwhile, San read a book...
I caught up with Mike about 10 minutes later. Thank the lord! He had another leader!
I asked, "Any luck?"
He promptly replied, "Eight!""No way? How?"
"On an elk hair caddis." He stated.
"Well, shit. I've got some of those."
Mike headed down the creek. I replaced my leader, put on a black-bodied elk hair caddis and worked my way up the creek.
Meanwhile, San watched HGTV...
Before you could say supercalifragilisticfuckin-A, I had hooked a trout! With overwhelming pride, I can say that I caught, at least, 10 trout as I worked my way back up to Hole #1. Now, I'm not saying they were all gi-normous beasts whose very teeth would rip the flesh from the back of a whale! But, they all put up a fight not unlike Mike Tyson on bad acid. The only reason I didn't catch more was because the clouds rolled in, hanging over Mount Princeton peak like a soft veil, and the thunder and lightning preceded the rain by mere minutes.
That night, Mike D made some bad-ass-baby-back-ribs. I mean, seriously-great ribs. Just thinking of them makes me want to go out to a farmer's field slaughter a nice fat pig and cooks its ribs. Seriously.
The rain continued throughout the night.
The next morning, the sun was back out, shining like a smile. Mike and Hanna had made pancakes and bacon. Delicious. I tried to help clean-up, but San would have none of it. She said something to the effect of, "Oh no, honey! I wouldn't think of it. You work so hard for me and Stella and Ossi. You just take a load off. Go fish some more! You deserve it! You the most wonderful person in the world!" So, I did as told.
Hanna decided that she would join the men for some sport. Mike got her geared-up and all of us headed back to the creek. We decided to go all the way down creek and work our way up from Hole #10. I wasn't having too much luck to begin with, but before you could say chim-chimmeny-chim-chim-chooroo, I had landed the first trout of the day. I worked upstream - catching trout all the way.
Some time later, Mike and Hanna came up behind me - scaring the hell out of me! Mike said Hanna was done and we was going to take her back. I stopped at a long-forgotten picnic bench and smoked the last half a Cohiba mini. I buried the end of it under a rock, and stared at the glassy surface.
Mike soon returned. "Want a beer?" Heaven.
We worked our way back upstream to Hole #1.
"Have you been up past this?" Mike asked."I did a while ago. I think it gets narrower and rockier. But, I don't really remember."
"When do you have to get back?" He asked.
"I dunno. Two? I don't know when San wants to get on the road."
"Well, should we go up a little?"
"Yeah." I agreed.
We hiked up the bank and came back around to the creek. It was different up here - more boulders and pocket water. But, this is where I caught the best trout of the weekend - a 14 inch Rainbow.
And Mike? Well, he went, how you say, ape shit? He was catching trout like a man possessed! It was very nearly literally every fucking cast with at least a strike! Amazing!
At 2 o'clock we headed back.
Fish caught = 50*
Fish released = 50
Fish killed = 0
Meanwhile, San surfed the web... **
**San now admits that she never set foot outside the cabin since our attempt to watch the Space Station.
All photos can be found HERE!
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