|
Weakened Warrior
|
4/25/2006
|
I love fishing. After writing this, I really wonder why.
I'm not talking about putting a worm on a hook and sitting on the shore waiting for the cork to go under while banjos play in the background- I mean spinners, flyrods, gore-tex, felt soled this and that, standing in the middle of a river fishing like you know what you're doing. And don't tell me that fishing is not fishing without beer- if you need an excuse to drink beer, you suck.
I planned to go last Saturday, but the weather was a mess and the way my luck has been lately, standing waist deep in water with a nine foot pole in my hand just didn't seem like a plan. Sunday the weather cleared and I called everyone I knew to go with me, but no one likes me so I went by myself. If I fished with worms I would have eaten them on the way to the river.
At the top of the trail I had a little bit of a hike to the water. It was 8 am and the sun was rising as I strapped on the ungodly array of equipment I feel the need to take with me when I fish. Walking downhill is easy first thing in the morning, even if you're wearing 30 pounds of junk.
The river was murky and dark- a little unnerving because the water is about 38 degrees. I walked out as far as I could and decided to step off of a rock to see how deep it was. About a quart of water spilled over the top of my waders before I scrambled back onto the rock, reciting a verse from the bible about the icy taint of wretched loathing.
By the time the sun came up I had found a shoal about 150 yards wide and twice as long with fishies darting merrily this way and that. The first thing I did was snag a bunch of hooks under trees and rocks, snap the line, and tie on new stuff. That's part of paying homage to the water for the bounty it is about to bestow upon you. Screaming "fuck" and punching the air is also part of the ritual.
"O, mighty river, flowy, wet river, over rocks and logs. I hereby sacrifice my very last fricking. #18 Beatle-star Galactica nymph, leader, split shot weights, and favorite strike indicator to thee, pissing me off immensely. This brings my total to $12 for that profoundly poor attempt at casting, and depending on the strength of the Euro, you owe me a couple of trout. Please allow the sun to light my way as I attempt to tie all of this crap back on whilst perched upon a slippery rock."
By 10 am I had lost so much tackle I thought I was going to have to sell my house, but the sacrifice wasn't lost on the water. I tied on a size 16 hackleback beadhead crappleberry whateverbug and started catching everything swimming…except one fish that I could actually see. He just sat there like a douchebag with gills, looking up at me. I floated all kinds of crap past him and he stared back at me like I was the stupid one. Realizing that he was right, I jumped in the water and kicked where I thought he was. Imagine my surprise when the kick connected and the fish went flipping out of the water. Seriously. I kicked a fish in what I believe was the ass for insubordination.
I caught 26 fish by 3:30 pm, and I was ready to go home. No, I don't keep the fish I catch. Two reasons-
1. Grocery stores have fish with the guts conveniently removed for you
2. Courtney Love's vagina is cleaner than the Chattahoochee River. I wouldn't eat a fish I caught in her vagina, either.
Walking downstream is way easier than walking upstream. I had walked about 200 yards downstream, and now had to walk back upstream so I could get out. Anywhere from knee deep to waist deep, flowing slowly, but flowing. I got to the shore, but it sucked the whole way and at one point I dropped my fishing rod and had to chase it down like an Alaskan Grizzly during the salmon spawn. See how much fun you'd have if you went fishing with me?
Finally the bottom of the trail was in sight. To get back to my car I still had to walk up what might as well have been a vertical cliff covered with frozen snot, except on the return trip my boots and waders were soaked with water and now weighed eleven tons each. Keep in mind that I was not any fitter than I was when I arrived.
In fact, I vastly overestimated my physical prowess by assuming I had any at all. I'm not in the fricking army and I don't hike. I have had two operations on my lower back and I have a desk job. I am no longer out of shape, I am without shape. I seemed to think that getting back to my car would be downhill as well.
About halfway up I took a shortcut through the woods. In my exhaustion I completely forgot that taking a shortcut usually results in someone finding your rotting corpse slumped against a tree five months later.
The shortcut was apparently some kind of Green Beret torture trail. The ground was steep enough that they had installed "steps" about two feet high that were probably actually "retaining walls" to "keep the earth from collapsing under its own weight". I sat on the first one and caught my breath and tried to stretch my back, then discovered that by rolling backward and onto my side, I could save my back the agony of stepping up onto them. Soon a bunch of hikers came by and laughed at me. I told them this was how they do it in Nepal and they should shut up before I go Sherpa on their asses.
By the time I got home my back was too jacked up to even get my waders out of the trunk. I lay on the ground and rolled across the parking lot to my front door, falling asleep in my living room. I enjoyed the sleep of the dead that night and spent the next two days in agony as my lumbar muscles bitch-slapped me for being such a weakened warrior.
And I can't wait to go again this weekend. My friend Jim and I are all amped for Sunday morning and I'm actually having dreams about fishing already. What the hell is wrong with me?
 Dusty
RELATED LINK:
|
|
posted by Dusty at 5:20 PM |
|
|
11 Comments:
sorry to hear your back is buggin ya. My back is bad too but I have these wonderful little things I like to call "Leprechauns Little Helper"..aka vicodin..
and the next time you go fishin' I'll join ya'..as long as Im in charge of the beer..
Oh, and I forgot to mention that I lose a lot of tackle too on the shore due to trees and the like. River grass hates me just as much, if not moreso than then Bass do.
Catch one for me this weekend man. Good luck.
P.S. 2nd??!?!? YAY!!!!
LICIOUS. Pretty good chow for the money. After a full belly, and dodging many angry phone calls from my boss I decided to head home and cause some havoc in peoples lives in the form of phishing. That bored me after 3 minutes so i plugged in my bass and started to jam. And I bet you'll never guess what song I decided to play. Character Zero by a little band called. You ready for this? PHISH
Easily the funniest thing I've read in the past two weeks!
I too am stuck behind a desk, more and more these days, to the point where I am developing my first ever hemorrhoid.
I also lose tackle but then again, as the manager of a marina, I get every single piece of equipment for FREE from my vendors !!! Hoo Hoo!
dunderfunk.
Sigh...great story! :)
I second or third that this is the funniest thing I've read in weeks. There is soda all over my keyboard now - thanks to that.
love you
Nice article! Sorry about the back.
+Post a Comment
<< MOST RECENT BLOG