"Grinnin' like a mule eatin' saw briars."

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Slip Slidin' Away ....


I decided to take the break in the weather as a sign to cast about. Had a relatively productive day, bringing 6 to hand and breaking off some rather good sized ones. I think getting over a cold and pushing myself to "have fun" kind of backfired. I didn't have a great time and that's breaking the cardinal rule of fly fishing (or any outdoor sport, for that matter). Fortunately I realized this and began to take my time. It was relaxing and I felt I wanted to drive around to see some other areas.


Typical bow for the day.

So I found the mountain pond pretty quickly. It was a rough drive, simply because of the potholes and mud ruts, but hey... a Jeep can handle it. Held some nice fish, moved a helluva Smallie off a brush pile, but she wasn't interested. So, time to move on, with a little haste because some grunting and growling was a tad bit disturbing, particularly when I couldn't pin down where it was coming from. Back in the Jeep, up the hill we go.

Off to see some American Indian drawings along the rock cliff... always nice.

Then, the decision came. It's 5 miles back to 107 if I take the forest service road, or 12 if I take the creek road. Simple math, less is better, ever more so when you're tired.

What, the road is closed? No way, gates would be shut... they forgot their sign. A quick 3,500 feet and all was clear, if not a little wet and muddy. No prob. Keep in mind this is one of those roads that should be one-way, when a body meet a body in this rye, then someone's gonna have to back it up. Very few pullouts. I counted two. And no rails, of course, it's a service road, and the drop down is anything but gradual. I get to the crest and all was well, until down the south side, which obviously has seen no sun, it was completely white and icy. Oh, crap.

So, after a tumultuous reverse for a few hundred yards, I found the one pullout I needed (which is still barely large enough for a Jeep).

Anyway, I guess it's one of those "you had to be there moments," it was tricky and not fun. It was dark, I was alone, and for one who doesn't freak out often, I had a moment. Maybe it's age catching up to bravado? Maybe it's thinking about what I could miss. Maybe it was the joke I told my wife as I left, "Hon, I am X Creek, in case I don't come home, that's where they'll find my bloated, bloodied corpse." Maybe I should keep my mouth shut and not take closed roads. They're closed for a reason, and so is my mouth.

Keep it rural,
Griz

2 comments:

John said...

Nice fish, lets go rip some lips!

James said...

John, that's where we'll be on the 12th!