chevy chase

September 13, 2013

Day: 12

Total mileage (car): 1924

Total mileage (including ferry): 2769.5

 

Today deserves two posts. 

Another brilliant day.  Colter was is true form and I found such joy watching him “explore” our site.  CJ caught us a nice looking Dolly Varden trout appetizer right from the comfort of our campsite.  We ventured away from camp in the evening along the Chilkoot River (one of the shortest rivers I’ve ever seen with the highest population of brown bears, bald eagles, salmon and trout).  CJ caught a beautiful 24+ inch rainbow trout fly fishing.  It was a great fight.  The biggest fish he's ever caught fly fishing.  Thanks, Alaska! And thank you Grandma Clella flies.

If that's not bear territory, I don't know what is.

 

A beauty!

I, on the other hand, was not having much luck.  CJ and Colter left me to go tend to the fire and dinner.  Feeling rather stubborn, I wasn’t leaving the shore (at the mouth of the river and lake) until I caught something.  And thus begins my Chevy Chase moment.

Remnants of a late summer bloom.

Two local families had congregated a bit down from me – their children waded in the frigid water waist deep, moms up at the picnic table and dads down on the shore fishing.  My spot was a bit precarious – in my tennis shoes (rookie mistake- RM- # 1), I straddled two small rocks (RM #2).  The nearest solid ground was a good 8-10 feet away (rookie mistake number 3).  Also working against me?  I don’t think I ever brought in a fish on my own – it seems there is always someone nearby to help deal with the pole, lure, and fish.  You can only imagine where this is going.

Along the steep bank...

 

My second cast out landed me a fish.  I was beyond excited.  Disappointed that it was a small, 10 inch Dolly Varden trout and not a 24 inch salmon, I quickly began to realize that God was looking out for me.  As I started reeling him in, I quickly noticed all of my classic mistakes.  I had nowhere to go but in the water.  I was going to get wet.

Just a few moments before my battle with Dolly.

I struggled with my little fish, feet soaked and fish rag in hand attempting to un-snag my pole from the weeds above me. I happened to glance up and there is Daddio watching me with a look of “She has no idea what she is doing”.  I let out a nervous laugh and turned back to Dolly.

Eventually, I manhandled her to the ground (thank goodness she was only a few inches long...), de-hooked her and sent her on her way.  My embarrassment complete, I grabbed my pole and started back for camp.  Walking back, I had this terrible feeling that I was being followed.  I kept stopping and turning around convinced that I had heard something behind me.  Bear spray in hand, I sped up my pace.

I turned around again and happened to glance downward.  To my utter dismay (and immense amusement) there was a large fish hook stuck to the back of my pant.  I was dragging a good size, bright colored weight about 4 feet behind me.  I just wish I could have seen the locals faces.  Classic.

Thanks for the stories, Haines!