A River Never Sleeps

What a gas. What a lot of gas. And what a price. Keath and I choose to drive to Alberta, towing a tent-trailer, just as gas prices peak. Sure we could have fished closer to home, but it wouldn't be the same.

Arrived at Lundbrek Falls campground on Sunday afternoon of the long weekend. We had to take a campsite at least forty feet from the river. All the sites on the river were taken. And, we had to pay an extra $5 for power even though we had no use for it. Was I ever pissed (take that as you may).

Next day we moved the tent-trailer to a site within a dozen paces of the river. First time I've ever moved the trailer without folding it up first. It's an old bugger, 1974 vintage, but it didn't break and the move went smoothly. More than I can say for myself.

This trip to the Crowsnest Pass was a first for Keath and he was in awe, the Rocky Mountains and the foothills, the limestone riverbed, the wind farms and the Frank Slide liquor store. Of course we stopped there
on our first day.

The Frank liquor store is unique. It can be, because there's nothing near to compare it to. If you want a case of Pilsen Urquel, you'll probably have to move two bottles of tequila and three cases of Bud Lite to get to it. The selection, however is also unique. So much so that Keath dropped $80 for a china bottle of Pussar's rum. It's the same stuff that was served on British Naval ships and apparently they kept Admiral Nelson's body floating in a cask of the stuff when returning his remains to England, after he was killed in the battle of Cape Trafalgar, on October 21, 1805. I'm entering this as a claus in my will.

All I can say is I've never sipped rum neat (ok, it was with some ice) and enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed that. It reminded me of a very expensive scotch, not that I'd know the difference between Glenwhatsit and Glenjustdrinkit.

I managed to dig out a couple cases of Big Rock Ale from under a pile of Kootenay Lager, so I was a happy camper.

Took Keath to all the places that Les Linfoot had introduced me to in previous years and while the fish were small the surroundings were stupendous, the breeze warm, the water cooling.

Our camp site, a dozen paces from the river, as mentioned, was at least eighty feet from the john, and I'm sure I disgusted Keath, using an empty 1Kg. coffee can as a chamber pot. The fact that I almost filled it one night may have taken him to the edge. That it is also the container I use for to transport the Coleman lamp may have lit his fuse, but, it didn't show.

Keep in mind that Keath is Felix and I am Oscar. It's a bizarre relationship. He owns a design firm and I belong to a union. He is tidy, meticulous and I am not. Hell, he showers and uses deodorant when camping.

But, who out fishes the other on any given day is up to the gods and we enjoy each other's success.

We also enjoy our food, both of us having dropped a fortune on new BBQ's recently. Of course, we had to make do with a one burner Broil King Porta Chef on our trip, but that didn't stop us from preparing a pork loin marinated in zesty Italian dressing, a perfect medium rare prime rib steak and lemon/pepper crusted chicken. And, if you haven't discovered them yet, you can buy potatoes in a can, sliced or whole. Great for hash browns or grilled on the Q. They are mostly cooked and convenient.

I have to add that Keath can do eggs, over easy, to perfection, and the grilled potato, red pepper and mushrooms were heaven (I assume, since my breakfast is a cigarette and coffee).

And then there is dinner out. Eating outside of Vancouver is hit and miss, mostly miss. The restaurant in Creston's premier motel had been infiltrated by two children, age 3 and age 2 and their father, age 6 months. Their mother, and I mean the mother of all of them, was our waitress. She did a hell of a job. I'm not sure where she got her training, probably from TV sitcoms, but she was chipper, if not cheery, if not cheesy. Her tips were displayed in a low-cut blouse, for cash under the coffee cup. I still haven't figured out how you get that much cleavage from so small resources. But the jeans were well filled, overfilled, pretty full, maybe not pretty, and the studded belt probably was there to appeal to the biker crowd. I couldn't look. I didn't want to, and that's unusual for me.

The premier motel? It also sucked. After dropping 90 bucks on my Visa card for the room, Keath and I debated what it should have cost. He came up with $35 and I came up with $29 after finding that the shower
was missing a part and the caulking was moldy. Place came with two lamps, one of which didn't work, even after Keath replaced the blue bulb with a clear one from the bathroom. I'd hate to mention the name of the place, but it's the HACIENDA INN, Ph. 250 428 2224, www.haciendainn.ca.

So you want to know about the fishing, I guess that's what this is about. Well, I got out of bed and while the coffee was brewing, made a cast and raised a fish. No, I didn't hook it, and I didn't cast again.

We went to a half dozen runs on the Crowsnest and always caught something, always swam in the surroundings. The 16 inch and 14 inch Rainbows I'd caught in previous years escaped me, but the river rock was warm, the beer was cold and the river alive, and so were we.

"There are no steelhead".