Cast, step, cast, step, cast, step.
Water is freakin cold! My legs are numb! I hope I can keep this up, too nice of a run to give up to that guide and his client across the river in that spanky jet boat.
Cast, step, cast, step, cast, step.
They are watching me, I can feel the guide's eyes boring into me from the other side. It's good water, perfect water, I know it and he knows it and he is not happy I am going over every inch of it while he sits there with his rich, fat client who probably is fishless today as well. I love it, and I am milking it like I would a jersey cow with a big fat bag'o'milk and swollen teats! Slowly, rhythmically.
Where are the freakin fish? "Record run, river is in perfect shape, weather is great", that is what the lady who rented me the cabin told me on the phone when I asked her from the comfort of my home, 720 miles away. Succubus!
Cast, step, cast, step, cast, step.
My shoulder is killing me, stupid rotater cuff. I have got to get a spey rod and learn how to cast with it. I see them out there every day standing on shore, feet barely wet, punching out 200 feet of line effortlessly. Not me, no sir, I am old school. Single handed 10ft rod, floating line, 400 grain sink tip, and a big ass wind resistant, cast like a wet sock fly. I need more ibuprofen.
Cast, step, cast, step, cast, step.
Where are the fish? It just can't be this hard, can it? We are in the middle of the 3rd and last day of our trip, my brother and I, and we have pounded water relentlessly. Every run, slick, tailout, pool, seam, bend, bucket, and pocket that we could find and nothing! NOTHING! Not a sniff except for two hapless 12 inch dolley varden that fell for an orange general practitioner half as big they were.
Cast, step, cast, step, cast, step.
Stop! What was that? Snag? No, snag is pulling back, FISH! Lift rod now, set hook, strip in slack line, is he still there? No, noooooo, NOOOOOOOO! Buck fever! He is gone, I can't believe it, I beaked him off. Strip in the line to see what happened. The fly is still there, the knot held, just a rookie mistake and I'm no rookie. I look at my brother hoping I can pass this off as a snag. No dice, he saw me set, he saw the rod bounce and pulse. His eyes burn. The horrer, the shame! Three days and the first fish we get I lose. No words to describe it, someone may have to die. No, seriously I may have to kill someone. Cast again you fool, maybe he will hit again.
Cast, swing, stop!
Yes, yessssss, YESSSSSSS! There he is, make no mistake this time. Line is tight, good hook set, now let him run. And run he does! Across the river, jump, jump again, work the line back, pump the rod, wind up, keep the line tight. The fight goes on but I am winning. I can feel the steelhead tire. Runs are shorter, headshakes less aggressive. Finally my hand under it's belly, gentle caress, remove the hook, take picture, release. He swims away. It WAS worth it! All was not lost! Let's do it again.
And again!
And again!
The Broheim
We shall return!
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