Anyway, Ben asked me if I was going fishing tomorrow, already knowing the answer.
I said that I was and he asked: "Where?"
I said: "Somewhere new - where I haven't been before."
"Is Chelle going with you?"
"No, she doesn't like going somewhere I haven't been, she likes to know what she's getting into before committing...."
So, this morning I headed for a West Slope Cutthroat stream I had never fished but know about inside YNP. I parked my truck geared up with pack, rod and lunch, intending to spend the whole day in there because I knew it would be a tough hike..... Little did I know.........
The plan was to bushwhack across a steep hill and then work my way down to a hidden meadow, then thru a canyon section, then into a second meadow section. Where I intended to start fishing, working my way back to the truck.
As I started working my way down towards the first meadow I stepped on a hidden rock the size of a baseball rolling my ankle with the sound of knuckles cracking! I went down in a heap.... I thought for sure I had broke it, no kidding! I laid there moaning for several seconds and in pain. Checking my ankle I felt better. It wasn't broke, I could wiggle my toes, move it and no bones were sticking out or anything...... so maybe I was OK..... Then it started to rain as I got up and limped around a little, my ankle still hurting like hell. Maybe I can walk it off. Hmmmm, maybe I can still make a go of it?
So, like any other fishing nut, I continued to slowly work my way down to the first meadow section. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the hoards of misquotes about my head and hands, a hundred anyway. My repellant was working OK till I got in the high wet grassed meadow section and then there were thousands!
Yes thousands in my nose, ears, everywhere... I hate misquotes, but this was crazy as they attacked me relentlessly. I worked my way out of the meadow to high ground and reapplied more bug dope.....
I had to catch at least one West Slope Cutty...
I continued to circle the first meadow around to the start of the canyon section. As I moved a short distance down the start of the canyon it got pretty steep. Looking down at the steep rocky cliffs in the canyon, there was no way I could make it down there much less back out with my sore ankle. I decided to start fishing from there at the start of the canyon, into the first meadow and then back to the truck. I knew it would be a tough just getting back from here.
I rigged up and promptly caught a "Westy" about 7 inches long, cool! Working the short canyon section (150 yards) before reaching the meadow I caught 12 more West Slopers, "unlucky 13" in all. That seemed like a good number to quit on with the way the day had gone so far. At the meadow now, with my sore ankle, rain and thousands of misquotes around me I packed it in and headed for the high ground and the truck. I had to stop often to rest my now throbbing ankle..... By the time I got to the truck I was a tired, wet, sweaty, limping mess.
Back home at our 5th wheel, Michelle is doctoring me up..... ice, and drugs!
Note: Chelle was damn glad she didn't go...... me too!
|West Slope Cutthroat - beautiful fish...|
|Though injured, Dougie is winning the Antler Round-up!|
|Yeah I know.... But it still counts! Dougie = 6 Michelle = nill|
|A view of the first meadow section of this creek, to the right of the dead pine tree and the canyon section is beyond.|
|Yep it's the right one... It should look colorful for the next week... How am I going to fish?|