11-08-2010, 06:45 AM
Started my roadtrip Friday morning after getting up bright and early and re-seeding the grass. Got on the road and stopped at the WMA in Montour and wished I had a bird dog when I couldn't find any pheasants. I finally stumbled into a couple birds and only had to shoot one time a piece to get them swinging from my belt. This never happens for me, by the way.
I made my way up the road to Riggins, and by then it was starting to get pretty dusky, so I figured I'd try fishing the little river just south of town. I hadn't rigged my new fly rod (last one was broken by a steelie last spring- that's more how my usual trips go) so I pitched a bobber n' pink jig with a salad shrimp on it. 2nd cast and the bobber went under. I figured I'd snagged up, since I'm not very good at setting depth or pitching those things with my stubbly cheapo rod- so I yanked to get the jig loose if I could.
And of course, the water exploded. The 26 inch buck jumped like 4 times out of the water shaking his head and doing flips, but I horsed the poor guy in. I was kinda staring in disbelief when he was cleanly hooked in the mouth and he didn't have an addi fin. This never happens to me, by the way.
By the time I got him tagged and taken care of, it was too late to fish anymore, so I hopped in the truck and headed for Grangeville, where I got a pretty tasty Calzone at that little joint next to the theater, called my wife while I still had service, then headed towards Harpster to find someplace to pull over and sleep. I ended up somewhere between there and Elk City in one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. I pulled my junk out of the back of the truck and made a bed. I usually prefer to sleep under the stars, but it looked like it might get a little damp out, and the smell of the carpet stained with deer-blood from archery season, stunk, but was actually kinda nice, in some weird way.
I got up Saturday to a picture perfect morning when the game warden stopped in for a chat. He wanted to make sure I wasn't shooting whitetails off the road and never asked for a tag or license or anything when he found out I was just a fisherman. Really was a nice guy. This never happens to me, by the way.
There were no other fishermen around, so I found the nicest spot I could to fish in and fished my but off. I got that zen in-the-groove feeling about my floats and casts with my new fly rod, and caught a trout and two whitefish. Then I snagged something on the bottom. I gave a yank to see how bad it was.
And of course, the water exploded. This time I was freaked, because I'd never played a B run on my fly rod before. This one was a runner- she jumped once, but mostly would give me false hope and then run out into my backing again. I thought for sure the hook would pull out when I was landing her, since I don't carry a net and there was no bank to speak of to beach her on. Her tail was so big I couldn't get my hand around to tail her, and she was having none of that lead-me-up-to-the-shore crap, anyway. I finally tossed her up into the grass- and looked to find BOTH of my flies in her mouth- egg pattern in her
, stonefly in the corner. I guess if she wanted to eat twice, that was ok with me. Oh yeah- no addi fin. 32 inches (ten pound-ish, ya figure?) hen. This never happens to me, by the way.
I fished a while more, but decided I should see what Orofino looks like, see the Dworshak dam, and the Red Shack at Peck, etc. Beautiful place, for sure, and really nice people. But that big water didn't interest me, and I figured that my wife wouldn't get too upset with me if I came home a day early. Plus it might not hurt me to go to church. God had been pretty nice to me the last couple days. I didn't want to be piggish.
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I made my way up the road to Riggins, and by then it was starting to get pretty dusky, so I figured I'd try fishing the little river just south of town. I hadn't rigged my new fly rod (last one was broken by a steelie last spring- that's more how my usual trips go) so I pitched a bobber n' pink jig with a salad shrimp on it. 2nd cast and the bobber went under. I figured I'd snagged up, since I'm not very good at setting depth or pitching those things with my stubbly cheapo rod- so I yanked to get the jig loose if I could.
And of course, the water exploded. The 26 inch buck jumped like 4 times out of the water shaking his head and doing flips, but I horsed the poor guy in. I was kinda staring in disbelief when he was cleanly hooked in the mouth and he didn't have an addi fin. This never happens to me, by the way.
By the time I got him tagged and taken care of, it was too late to fish anymore, so I hopped in the truck and headed for Grangeville, where I got a pretty tasty Calzone at that little joint next to the theater, called my wife while I still had service, then headed towards Harpster to find someplace to pull over and sleep. I ended up somewhere between there and Elk City in one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. I pulled my junk out of the back of the truck and made a bed. I usually prefer to sleep under the stars, but it looked like it might get a little damp out, and the smell of the carpet stained with deer-blood from archery season, stunk, but was actually kinda nice, in some weird way.
I got up Saturday to a picture perfect morning when the game warden stopped in for a chat. He wanted to make sure I wasn't shooting whitetails off the road and never asked for a tag or license or anything when he found out I was just a fisherman. Really was a nice guy. This never happens to me, by the way.
There were no other fishermen around, so I found the nicest spot I could to fish in and fished my but off. I got that zen in-the-groove feeling about my floats and casts with my new fly rod, and caught a trout and two whitefish. Then I snagged something on the bottom. I gave a yank to see how bad it was.
And of course, the water exploded. This time I was freaked, because I'd never played a B run on my fly rod before. This one was a runner- she jumped once, but mostly would give me false hope and then run out into my backing again. I thought for sure the hook would pull out when I was landing her, since I don't carry a net and there was no bank to speak of to beach her on. Her tail was so big I couldn't get my hand around to tail her, and she was having none of that lead-me-up-to-the-shore crap, anyway. I finally tossed her up into the grass- and looked to find BOTH of my flies in her mouth- egg pattern in her
, stonefly in the corner. I guess if she wanted to eat twice, that was ok with me. Oh yeah- no addi fin. 32 inches (ten pound-ish, ya figure?) hen. This never happens to me, by the way. I fished a while more, but decided I should see what Orofino looks like, see the Dworshak dam, and the Red Shack at Peck, etc. Beautiful place, for sure, and really nice people. But that big water didn't interest me, and I figured that my wife wouldn't get too upset with me if I came home a day early. Plus it might not hurt me to go to church. God had been pretty nice to me the last couple days. I didn't want to be piggish.
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