On my flight in I had a 7 hour layover in Dallas. . I got into DFW at around breakfast time so I had lox and bagels. Not the freshest looking lox, the effects of which would show up later.
Lunch time rolled around and I decided that this trip needed chied fricken.
As time for my flight neared I started experiencing stomach issues, having to make multiple trips to the john with splatter shits.
Finally time to board for the leg to Anchorage arrived. Unfortunately my stomach condition hadn’t improved. I had the window seat so I had to be the asshole making 2 other people get up to let me out of my seat multiple times during the long flight.
It looked cold down there
I flew el cheapo air, on this
After I landed in Anchorage I waited in the airport for Fatman who arrived just a little later. We got checked into the hotel then had dinner at the hotel restaurant. Our waitress was a hot Mexican woman named Lilly with a great ass. I told fatman "When she walks it looks like 2 possums fighting in a sack".
Riverman was our guide
Riverman likes to talk and tell stories. Riverman likes to talk and tell stories a lot. Riverman likes to talk and tell stories whether anyone is listening or not.
We stopped by a campground near the river to pick up Riverman’s boat. I think somebody stole his prop.
As we were getting wadered up a wildlife officer showed up and introduced himself. He mentioned to Riverman that he needed a guide permit specific to this river because it’s a state wildlife management refuge thingy. Riverman’s jaw dropped. Earlier in the week he had gone by the refuge office to buy whatever permits he needed. They told him that he needed a launch permit and camping permit, but never mentioned that he needed the guide permit (and he had told them he was guiding). While Riverman was flummoxed by this development the officer asked where we were from. When Fatman mentioned that he was from Kansas, the officer asked “What Part?”. Within a few seconds it was established that the officer, like Fatman had gone to Kansas State, and thanks to a bunch of Wildcat alumni Bro Bro stuff the officer cut Riverman and us a huge break, telling us to go ahead and fish, but Riverman needed to make sure that he got into the refuge office on Monday to get the permit squared away. Go Wildcats.
At the launch is the “Don’t Be A Dumbass” monument. A number of years ago a game warden was driving this boat down river when some small penised person in an overpowered jet boat t-boned him. Fortunately the warden survived.
Along the way just about every rock or turn in the river reminded Riverman of a story he needed to tell us, then each detail of each story would require a full back story, with each detail of the back story requiring a full story as well. We got to the comfortable looking campsite. Riverman had busted his ass to move the campsite from the river we were going to fish to this one, involving something like a 90 mile haul by boat.
We unloaded gear and went down to a spot where we saw a tremendous amount of fish on the way up. It’s a spot rIverman likes to fish that most of the locals pass up and drive right through, so Fatman had the great idea to call the hole the “Drive Through”. We started fishing and before too long Fatman was hooked up.
The fish ran and thrashed and came to net. It was a Chum hooked in the dorsal fin, but fuck it, it was the first Salmon I got to see up close without lemon and a parsley garnish.
Shortly after that Fatman hooked (in the mouth) and landed a chum that was very bright and fresh, so fresh it still had sea lice.
The sea lice reminded Riverman of a story he had to tell us.
Soon after I repeated Fatman’s pattern, ass hooking a chum, then catching one fair. The ass hooking reminded Riverman of a story he had to tell us. This one was caught fair
We caught a few more fish and returned to camp for lunch at around 3. Riverman had brought some pasta salad with Salmon and some smoked salmon dip that was really tasty. Lunch reminded Riverman of a long story he had to tell us. During our lunch break we had a visitor. Joe is one of the guys that works at the fish weir upriver from where we were camped. He counts fish. Joe was in the Spitfire
Complete with Cadillac fins and tail lights.
Ruiverman told Joe a few stories.
After lunch we fished more. Neither Fatman or I had much of a sense of time because of the long Alaskan day. We were surprised to find out it was 10 PM when we quit fishing. We snacked a bit then went to bed. The tents were set up with cots with Therma Rest pads on them and sleeping bags. It was comfortable. It was also very nice to be out of waders as I discovered that both legs of mine leaked, quite a bit.
"... don’t let your life become the sloppy leftovers of your work" Jim Harrison
"Put in the effort and good things happen"... Hogleg
"Salinity is proportional to sanity for sure" ..The Volfish
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