A River Never Sleeps

Gave me her itinerary for the week - going to a play with her stitching group Friday night, movie Saturday with Nan, the terminal single woman and to dinner after that.

"You didn't have any plans, did you?", she asked.

Had to admit, that I didn't, but, since she was going out Saturday, and I'd have nothing to do but tend the lawn. I gave Keath a call.

"Fish?"

Photography by Kelsey Baglo

We're a bit late, this year, for our first fishing trip, but Saturday was promising. Forecast was for sunshine and 60+ temps, and the Old Bag was busy.

This early in the year, you're pretty much stuck with stocked lakes. Alice is a bit more than an hour drive along the ocean, under the coast mountains. Other stocked lakes within range require one to cruise through strip mall after strip mall, so it didn't require a brain much larger than a pea to opt for Alice.

Keath has a great longing for a pontoon boat with a rowing frame, but he can't bring himself to make the purchase just yet and his belly-boat is a kidney killer in cold water. I've got my Buck's Cutter pontoon boat (sans rowing frame), so we opted for the canoe.

I've spent many a brutal hour fishing from a canoe, trying to keep it and and my fly line under control and I knew proper anchoring was the key. Problem is, last time I anchored at Alice, I couldn't get the anchor off the bottom and had to cut the line. I figure the claw anchor had wedged itself between a couple logs, so this time I had two ten foot lengths of chain, each on a line, so we could anchor both ends.

It was an idea. Just a bad idea.

We tried anchoring, we tried paddling, we tried fishing, but the whole experiment was an exercise in frustration as the canoe rotated 360-degrees in the wind. Didn't get a nibble.

It didn't take a brain much larger than a pea, coupled with a Visa limit slightly larger than a pea, to come up with a solution.

As I sat in my backyard with my new Buck's Southfork pontoon boat, stainless steel, rowing frame and a dozen other options, I wondered why the Old Bag said I couldn't buy a new barbeque, but launched no objection to spending twice as much on something you can't cook a steak on.

And, when I asked her late Friday night what she was doing Saturday, she said she'd already made plans, and she was working Sunday, so there was nothing to do, but go fishing with Keath.

I brought my Buck's Cutter for Keath to use, saving wear on his kidneys, and just managed to throw the 42-lb. Southfork up on the roof of Keath's Jeep. Had to explain to him that you need to clean the pontoons first, to avoid sanding the roof of the vehicle, as I did on one trip in the Subaru.

We were heading for Weaver Lake. A new lake, new boats and a creel-full of optimism in the back of the truck.

Apparently most of country had also headed for Weaver Lake, but finding a parking spot proved to be easier than catching a fish.

Got to say, that Southfork, with the rowing frame really moves when you need it to. I'd spot a rise and churn the water, getting within casting range.

And then, when I couldn't get it to rise again, I'd easily catch up with Keath, who was still kicking the Cutter toward lunch.

You got to say this about flyfishing. You might not be all that successful at the fishing part, but you can buy lots of nice toys.

And, if I buy the underage Baguette a Mickey of vodka, she won't tell the Old Bag that there's a new Simm's mesh vest hanging in the side shed, along with the new landing net.