Day 2
Even though anxious to get fishing the heavy rain is now singing a merry tune on my sleeping quarters so I grab a little more sleep as I have 12 hours to fish if I wish, even it I do not start to 10.
The continuing rain does not keep me in my comfortable bed,
the Leaf Mobile for much longer and after a hurried breakfast of flakes topped with fresh Fraser Valley strawberries I am on the water by 8 am.
I am greeted by some rolling and surfacing springs who seemed to be mocking me and they showed themselves cheekily to me. I even threw a Kitmat at them for a brief spell as the Master said to do if they are not taking bait. This did not work or did the prawn tails so took a break at 11 from this frustration for a while, to have lunch of smoked rainbow from the Merritt trip. After lunch time to do some exploring of the area. Even took the video camera along for the hope of capturing some more wildlife to add to the video I have put together for the Great Blue Heron Nature Reserve open house on Saturday.
After the two hour break or so I returned to the water and was informed by some other anglers who had arrived before my departure said at least 8 more had rolled in the period of my absents.
They were chucking spoons as well as bait but to no avail.
I have a little PM action to keep my interest level high, hoping each of "Randog's" float movement will be "fish on". This term sort of bothers this angler, too old fashion I guess but it is a good term to warn other anglers "in the line" you have connected to your quarry.
That phrase does remind me however on the video I made "Fish On, A Day On The Fraser River' that I filmed and produced for the FVSS many moons ago. Those were the days when bar fishing was King on Bowman's Bar, when a tent city would spring up each Fall like they did on the Fraser when gold was discovered.( Remember the movie Paint Your Wagon with Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin, the sound score as well as the story was a classic.) These day at Bowmans were certainly good old bar fishing days, long before BB was even thought of in these parts, of the world anyway. A guest of this forum will remember this video, as he had a starring role in it.
One day when the computer age advances we will maybe be able to put these old clips as close as your computer screen for those that would be interested in seeing them. Imagine getting tips from the "Master" over your morning coffee.
When Rodney?
I am joined by Gwyn, up for the afternoon and evening fish. I am glad to see him in the hope of him bringing me a coffee as I forgot the campstove and the coffee to go with it as well. I had a slight headache all day, needing my TH coffee fix. Why is there not one close at hand, no Chris, that is what you like about this place, isolation. I have to suffer it out as my friend has not even brought a thermos of home brew, some friend, some fishing partner.
My confident level remains high of a fish today and I keep telling Gwyn, soon a fish, soon a fish.
As I always tell Lew, one cast closer to a fish after every drift. That is why we watch the float so closely as the next drift will be the one.
Gwyn has decided to fish until 9 before heading home and at 8 o'clock, nearly 12 hours since first hitting the water, the tell tale slow disappearing act of "Randog" float. Fish on
. There he is, finally a spring. I think patience is certainly a virtue it seemed today but isn't it always.
I film the battle, rod in one hand and the camera in the other, to put on your video screen one day, maybe.
As Gwyn maneuvers into position to do the netting honours he says "only a small one" is that jealously speaking but as he nets it on the first sweep of the net I see he is correct, only a 5 to 6 pound fish. However it is a blunt nose Fraser River chinook, a prize in my book any time, regardless of size. Good eating also, fish for the week once again.
Mum will be happy, bringing home the bacon again dear, I can hear it now as I admire the fish, who has travelled many miles and as many perils before falling for my hook. Sometime I feel a bit sorry for them because of that fact, but the age old feeling of success that flows through all our veins with a fish is on and its captures stems from away back in the history of man. This is the feeling since the beginning of time, when our past generations were hunters and gathers, where survival depended on us bringing home the food so to speak. Some catch and release advocates may disagree but this instinct is still there, I believe it is anyway.
With the fish safely put away I relax now but continue to fish to keep Gwyn company and I do miss another that I believe was another good fish but who knows.
We stop fishing at 9 and I help Gwyn load and I bid him goodbye. I sort of hated to see him leave, as his truck's tail lights disappear into the darkness that has now enveloped me into its grasp. I am now once again left to the closing in of the days nightly curtain for the second night in a row, a little ghost like I must admit, surrounded by the forest and what secrets it may hold within.
I quickly make a fire of wood that I had wisely gathered earlier, to shed a little light on my surroundings. I had found some pitch from the base of a fir tree and some bark off a fallen birch tree, both great fire starters. Good to pack small bag of it with you if you are doing some hiking and for some untimely reason you may need to make a fire.
This prepared fire starter does it job and my spirts soar somewhat as the life of fire springs to life, to comfort, to warm me inside and out, so to speak.
I pull up a plastic milk carton box, close to the warmth and security of the flames and do something I seldom do, have a beer,
one I found while cleaning up the mess I mentioned in yesterday thread on the party on the Vedder. I have nothing against beer, I just do not like it, I would rather have a TH coffee but tonight it is beer or nothing.
I sip the Bud slowly, my only companion this night as I watch the moon rising over a distant mountain peak. While at the same time I am watching over my back for who knows what, what has come over me, cabin fever maybe after only 2 days away from home.
I grab the video camera film the fire and the moon and it turns out surprisely well, got to show others how erie it feels and looks out there times, is it old age setting in, where my survival instinct is taking over
As the fire dies its slow death I climb into the security of the Leaf Mobile once again and as the last rays of the fire reflect against the side panels of the truck, sleep takes over from fear. Starting to sound more like a mystery than a fishing story I know.
The morning comes in a hurry thankfully, with the previous nights thoughts now longed dashed as fishing now takes over my slightly aching head. Was it the Bud, only one, or the lack of a coffee, most likely a bit of both.
I gather a bit more wood for another fire to take away the chill of the 4:30 am air, have breakfast and then to the water.
I will not go into the details of the day but it was fishless, however I captured some good footage of a willow grouse strutting itself across a road, most likely had her brood of chicks hiding in the grass. She clicked her warning to them softly telling them to keep hidden from this intruder to their world. As well I got shots of a number of turkey vultures sunning themselves in the crisp mountain air, some very close shots as well. I hear but do not see a bear scramble from a wild cherry tree but it makes a hasty retreat as do I, thankfully.
Bandtail pigeons are feeding as well in the same trees, I observe some with branches broken from the weight of these black bears tasting their first fruits of summer, better that than me.
As I pack up at 2 pm I wonder if this will be the last time I will be able to do this type of fishing with the proposal of a bait ban on the horizon, I hope not. I fished about 20 hours for that one chinook and enjoyed every minute of it, just incase.
Maybe that boogeman I was worried about last night was not on in the forest after all but one that is dressed in a buissness suit sitting in a Victoria office somewhere, one that has no idea what this type of experience is all about. He most likely sadly does not care.
The thought makes one want to have more than one Bud but I settled for two good cups of coffee instead at the first cafe on the way home. Must keep the mind sharp for the fishing battles ahead that start today as my two days and a bit in paradise once again have come to an end.
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Topic: Chasing Down An Early Spring Again. (Read 3632 times)