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Warning, not a fishing report |
Dec 26, 2007 |
So, about one O’clock Christmas day I find myself all alone on a little green creek with crazy big snow flakes pounding down and sticking to EVERYTHING including my rod, which is amazing because the rod is horsing on a chromey 7 pounder that’s jumping and running everywhere.
Sounds AWESOME huh? Well here is how I got there.
Christmas eve- eve-eve, afternoon (I guess that would be the afternoon of the 22) I was on the East Side of the Peninsula, beginning what was to be 4 confusing days of deer hunting, Christmas partying and travel all the way to the big city (That would be THE EMERELD CITY, not Port Angeles).
After a great though unsuccessful afternoon of hunting I returned to a buddy’s house for dinner and hit the sack early. Late that night I awoke strangely cold, I wondered if perhaps the heater had switched off, but opon checking it the indicator light was on although the heater felt only vaguely warm.
I was REALLY cold, all over. Did it freeze outside? My mouth tastes terrible, my toothbrush is in the truck and I need it. I walk to the back door and notice despite the unbearable chill I am sweating all over. The back door opens, I walk down the steps, an odd feeling in my belly, I can see my truck, and then. I’m gonna make this brief, I began to, shall we say, purge. I made it to the truck, leaving a trail of horrors, and then, well by the morning of the 24 I figured that I could make it far enough between bathroom stops to get home. I had no desire to be in a house that had more people in it than bathrooms.
So, Christmas day, the eggs and toast stayed down for long enough to convince me to go fishing and I will say that I fished well, yes; I would even say all modesty aside I was on my game.
I had a bite on my first cast and hammered a downstream hook set right on time and stripped like crazy to get the line tight and was NOT upset to land a small whitefish. The second cast just downstream, another bite and a beauty eight pound hen goes ballistic, leaves the pool heading downstream me running, dog swimming, we all meet up again at the next pool down where the only three other anglers on the stream congratulate me on my success and then race each other up to where I was standing, Merry Christmas.
Then the rain turns to snow, the snow get heavy, and I fish alone in the quiet for a few hours with one good bite. I return to where I started and everyone is gone, I make the same cast that the first fish bit and, easy, back to where I started, with the snow and the jumping fish.
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