Fly fishing, Birding, Upland bird hunting, Photography and Adventure Travel on the High Plains and throughout the Rocky Mountain Region. All photos unless otherwise labeled are copyrighted ChucknGaleRobbins; Any use of photos or text requires our written permission.
RANTINGS AND RAVINGS OF AN OLD MAN TRULY RUINED BY SPORT
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Montana Fly Fishing: BYWS
BringYourWadersStupid...yes I do know better but no I did not bring them along yesterday and...Holymoley did the faux pas cost me...The storm blew over the ridge almost without warning and with a vengeance...Dark, ominous clouds quickly changed day to almost night; the wind howled; lightning flashed and thunder boomed...Then came the rain...heavy sheets pouring down from the low slung leaden clouds, running down our necks, despite hooded rain coats snugged tight soaking our thin fishing shirts and pants...Holeymoley man, why? Like what the hell were you thinking? More to the point what the hell are your GD waders doin' rolled up on the backseat the truck?
Hauling on the oars for all I am worth I cannot control the raft; as we bounce from one rock to the next the boat all the while careening wildly on a collision course with the far bank...the one lined with tall, lightning and wind prone cottonwoods...yes, the exact WRONG bank to land given the opposite is lined with relatively safe LOW willows...but I have no choice and soon we collide with the bank.
Fagged but scared silly we might die to a fallen limb or perhaps worse an entire 80 foot tree, I push off and manage to bounce and glide downstream a hundred yards or so to where several protruding rocks halt progress but just beyond is an opening in the line of cottonwoods. "Okay everybody out! We gotta get away from these trees pronto."
Exiting the raft, the rain changes to hail...the wind increases dramatically...from a dull, mind-numbing roar to a scary as hell eerie cross between a moan and a wail...air temperature plummets and...The three of us are now damn wet and gawdamn cold...teeth chattering, limbs shaking we huddle there...like three pathetic drowned lumps each in his own way silently wishing the storm to GO AWAY...Please.
Pummeled nearly to submission I look up toward a house on the bank (by the way the last one before dropping into the canyon) and...a bright light...and it's moving... thru the gloom it appears someone is waving us to come to the house...No Way but...another waving light appears...not one but two shadowy figures and yes, the pair are, by god, waving us to come to the house...C'mon boys, help has indeed arrived.
Urging us to come in out the storm two ladies implore... "Don't worry bout the carpet just get in here and warm up"...and soon we standing, drip-drying as it were, by a warm heater and swilling mugs of HOT, black coffee and as our tremors slowly recede two thoughts keep replaying in my addled brain...LADIES, THANK YOU and of course NEXT TIME BRING YOUR GD WADERS...STUPID!!!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment