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[report]We woke the next morning to heavy fog.
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Neil seemed to be in a better mood today, and after we rationed out the day's beer allotment, he and Rick went in one direction with Mike, while J and I took off in another direction with Rob.
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Once we reached the river, we managed to entice some rainbows into eating on top.
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We caught some graying as well.
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We got a little rain here and there, but nothing heavy or steady.
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And we threw streamers for awhile, hoping to get some of the bigger fish to come out and play, but that didn't work out quite the way we expected.
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Came across this little guy walking along the shore.
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Saw some nice lodges.
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And some really nice lodges.
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Both J and Rob were very easy going and a pleasure to fish with, and it was a great, relaxing day on the water.
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When we got back to the lodge, I asked Neil how his day way, and he said, "It was OK."

That's Neil-speak for "Pretty damn good," and I was glad to see that he'd bounced back.

The four of us rationed out some whiskey, and while we were sitting on the deck enjoying our cocktails the owner came out.

Neil looked at him and said, "I've one more request."

"Now what."

"I want the four of us to fish together tomorrow."

The owner looked at him for a moment and then said, "Right now I can only think of one place where that would work, and it's a long boat ride to get there."

"That's fine," said Neil.

"You'd be on a very small creek, so you'd have to take turns fishing it," said the owner.

"That's fine," said Neil.

"You'd be fishing for rainbows and char..."


"...with pegged beads..."


"...behind spawning sockeye."

At this point Neil looked at me and said, "Are you good with that?"

"Whatever you want man," I replied. "I'm already going to hell for worse shit than that, so if it's going to make you happy, then let's do it."

Neil smiled and said, "Cool."

And I knew Neil was pleased.
MTgrayling wrote:Joe needs to relax a bit. let me help...

"Rrooaxannne!", "you don't have to put on the red light" "Rrooxannnee!"
This. Funny shit.
Neil likes The Police, right Joe?

Freakin epic TR man.
Mas por favor.
Damn it Joe, you're a bigger tease than that hot chick that insist on keeping me in the "Friend Zone".
ahh fuck. I just got to read this and it came to abrupt halt.

This is stellar as always, at the edge of my seat Joe get this shit rolling.
Send Neil to pyramid with me.

I text your brother and he ever responded back to me, let him know he is more than welcome please.
Please invite Neil to the RB
User avatar
By Average Joe
[report]The next morning we all met downstairs, and after making our lunches and eating breakfast, I put on my waders, grabbed our beer cooler, and carried it to the fridge down by the dock.

I counted each can as I pulled it out of the fridge and put it in the cooler and determined that we had twenty-nine beers left to see us through the day.

The owner had assigned John to be our guide, and when he saw me loading up the cooler, he ran over and said "Let me do that for you!"

"It's OK, I've got it."

"Well then let me get you some ice!"

He then ran off and soon came back with a five gallon bucket full of ice and dumped it in the cooler.

"Is that enough? Do you need more?"

"That's plenty man. Thanks."

"Let me carry that for you!"

"It's OK. I got it."

"I insist!"

He then wrestled the cooler from my hands and carried it down to the dock and put it in the boat.

He was that kind of guide.

I waited for the rest of my group to show up, and when they didn’t I walked back up to the lodge to see what was holding them up.

"Rick can't find his rod," said Neil. "He was positive he left it in the rod rack here by the porch, but now it's gone. He's going through his rod case upstairs right now."

A few minutes later Rick came down and said the rod was not in his room.

I went through all the lodge rods, and it wasn't there either, so Mike got on the radio and called the other guides and asked if one of the other guests had it.

Sure enough, one of them did, and it just so happened to be the guest Neil hated the most.

We were already behind schedule, and now we had to make a detour in order to get Rick's rod, so we quickly jumped in the boat and got underway.

John did his best to get us there as fast as possible.

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When we caught up with the guy who had taken Rick's rod, instead of saying "I'm sorry," he said "Don't blame me. They both look the same."

I could see that Neil was about to tear into the guy, but before he could do so, our guide jumped out of the boat, exchanged rods, and with a straight face said, "You're absolutely right. They could be identical. One's an XP and the other is Z-Axis. One's eight feet long, and the other is nine feet long. One has a black reel, and the other has a silver reel. I'm really surprised that this is the first time it's happened."

Neil smiled and said, "I like this guide."

And I could tell that Neil was pleased.

After handing the rod to Rick, John jumped back into the boat and fired up the motor, and once again we were on our way.

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Neil then pulled four beers from the cooler, passed them around, and said, “To a great day, and a great trip.”
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About forty-five minutes later, I tapped on John's shoulder and yelled loud enough for him to hear me over the motor "Take me to shore! I feel a Franzen coming on!"

"What's a Franzen?" he yelled back.

"I need to take a dump!"

"I've never heard it called that before!"

"Consider yourself lucky!"

A few minutes later we coasted up to a beach, and just beyond the sand there sat a little hunting cabin.

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Behind the cabin I found this.
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Once I’d finished taking care of business, we all jumped back in the boat and continued on our journey.

Twenty minutes later, we landed at another beach, next to the mouth of a small creek.

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John walked ahead of us, looking for trout and char swimming amid the sockeye.

Once he spotted one, he'd call one of us up and tell us where to cast.

Once the cast was made, we'd all watch as the bead slowly drifted downstream.

More often than not, as soon as the fish saw it, it would dart over and suck it up, at which point a chorus of voices would yell, "SET! SET! SET!"

A few fish were caught, many more were missed, and there was plenty of trash talk.

Rick, pretending to be on the phone: "So tell me what you’re casting?"

J, also pretending to be on the phone: "Do you really want to know?"

Rick: "You know I want to know, you dirty little whore, so tell me."

J: "Well, right now I'm casting a bobber..."

Rick: "Go on..."

J: "And a pegged bead..."

Rick: "Go on..."

J: "And a bare hook..."

Rick: "Go on..."

J: "And nothing else."

Rick: "You're a filthy little slut, aren't you?"

We had a good time.

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Some of the sockeye looked like koi swimming in the pond of a Japanese garden.
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Some did not.
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When we broke for lunch, John asked us what we’d enjoyed the most so far.

“Fishing for silvers,” we all replied.

He said he knew of a river where the silvers might just be starting to show, and asked if we wanted to check it out.

Our answer was unanimous, and soon we were once again back in the boat.

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When we arrived at river’s mouth, we saw silvers everywhere.

I put on one of Bruiser’s magical flies and fished it for the rest of the day, but the fish just weren’t interested. Neil and Rick also caught nothing. J had three hookups, but he wasn’t able to land any of them.

John was more frustrated than we were, and kept saying, “I can’t believe they’re not eating. Try casting over there,” or “Let me change that fly.” He kept us out much later than he was supposed to before finally telling us to reel in and get back in the boat.

Later that evening, we killed the last of the whiskey, and drank the last of the beer, and left four more butts in the coffee can out on the deck before calling it a night.

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The next morning the owner and his wife took us to the airport and waited there until we’d boarded the plane to Anchorage.

In Dillingham we'd checked three boxes of frozen salmon with our luggage, but an hour after landing in San Francisco we discovered that our fish wasn’t on the plane.

I didn’t think we’d ever see it again, but the airline delivered it to Neil’s house the next day, and my share is now sitting in my freezer.

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I have a very small collection of flies that I will never fish.

Their hooks are buried into a little piece of driftwood that I keep on my desk, and each one reminds me of either a specific trip or the person who gave it to me.

The day after I got home, I added two more.

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Cheers boys.
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Mighty fine Joe. Neil would be pleased.
Last edited by Redchaser on Tue Aug 25, 2015 3:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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