December's Breath

On the road to the river Blue,
December's eastern sky is windswept.
Clouds painted with broad brush strokes,
on a horizon serving as canvas.
Colors of a forlorn grey hue.

Round bales standing in the field,
evidence of winter cattle prosperity.
Ducks on a gentle prairie lagoon,
resting from the hunter's wield.
The wind is mean today,
will it cause trout austerity?

December's breath is bitter today.
Fewer souls on the river Blue now,
early season anglers have vanished.
Like hard-earned money from the wallet,
of a veteran Saturday night drunk -
practicing the occupation of getting polished.

Those left - old salts, true lovers of the art.
They face the wind, cold, and pain.
Bitterness embraces the lot of them, but still,
head on to torment, for time grows shorter.
Tearing eyes, frozen guides, steadfast -
forward in the time that remains.

December's breath finds me today,
lays steely heavy in my chest.
So very numbing to the fingers,
these seeking eyes grow wet.
But, time pushes forward with me,
in the stew I slowly wade.

The Rocking Chair is the target,
a place foreign to fur and feather.
A favored place of the bait fisher,
a cradle from the weather.
Bugger and midge are the team
into the pool they drift.

First drift brings a trout,
but more trout would be not,
Upstream is calling - another course,
through a channel, a north fork.
So-long granite chair, I make a new way,
fishing you will wait another day.

The first fish is give a name,
as the second and third at Glory.
The wind is brutal at Glory,
and I hear the south wild call.
There's more fish to be counted,
and more fish to be named.

Counting all the fish, naming all the fish,
a compulsive disorder by a compulsive man?
There's Silverside, Aurora, Nova, Starchaser,
then Flash, Jumpin' Jack, Rascal, and Pegasus.
Each new fish counted, each new fish given.
Nineteen fish counted, nineteen fish named.

Pools and pockets are so rewarding today,
the south wilderness is quite kind.
The harbor known as the Cove,
is where the treasures were hid.
Awaiting battle with the fur and feather,
and angler of the cold season weather.

There are no timepieces on the river Blue,
except the timepiece of time itself.
Forever passing, never stopping,
ticking at it's own rhythm and rhyme.
Time today has passed for me,
and it's now time to leave the river.

On the trail out by Coyote Pass,
two bucks locked in battle.
Driven by that deep natural desire,
glorious nature in it's essence.
To the victor goes the spoils,
Focused, they never since my presence.

December's breath blows down my neck,
as I slowly climb that last steep hill.
Thanks are given to the creator,
for all the wealth and thrill.
December's breath - we'll meet again.

The Rocking Chair

North Fork behind Glory.

Trout named Silverside.

South Wilderness trout.

Trout named Aurora.

Eastern fork of the south wilderness.

Into The Kingdom

Trout Season 2009/2010 Fishing Day Fifteen

Charlie's accounts of recent explorations into the south wilderness became simply too much for me to bear. Like Charlie, I too have a particular fondness for this special area. For me, it's a fondness that had led me to look at the south wilderness as a kingdom. For Charlie and I both it's probably safe to say that our fondness for the south wilderness comes from the knowledge that we know an angler, if so chooses, can fish alone...without experiencing a single second of loneliness.



In the south wilderness we each can find ourselves surrounded by the mystique of the natural world. It's time worn and sculpted by nature herself.

Today, I arrived in the south wilderness shortly before noon and walked directly to Coyote Pass - a pool that usually rewards me. I stood on the bank awhile studying the water to see if anything remarkable was happening...however it wasn't so I stepped into the drink to quench my thirst. The catching was tough at first fishing downstream, so I turn and fish upstream and find a pocket with bows awaiting.

Using an olive yellow split-tail bugger with a Crackleback trailer I started battling bows. On my last outing the Crackleback performed as well as the bugger but today the bugger was putting on a show out-performing his rival for attention by at least five to one.



Although the bows were standard stocker size they were full of spunk and all gave good fights. These bows today were also brightly colored and healthy. The Crackleback would take two bows on it's own before I lost it on a rock.

I replaced the Crackleback with a scud pattern that I tied for a fly swap with Michael Mercurio. On it's maiden voyage the scud would prove itself by capturing a bow. The scud would end up capturing three more bows before one of their tribe decided he liked it so well he'd keep it.



The fishing at Coyote Pass wasn't hot and heavy...just steady and expected. I would pick up a bow or two...sometimes three in each pocket I would fish. There was a bait fisher fishing near me and he wasn't having any luck so I left the pool to let him have a chance at it. I went to the far side of Coyote Pass to see if any bows await there... but found none.



On the far side however I did find a rather gregarious turtle that seemed to just want to hang out with me and turtle-around my wading boots. He seemed like a rather nice chap so I took a picture of him.



I left Coyote Pass and walked up to the Cove and started fishing below the falls. Casting upstream toward the falls and letting the bugger drift I took a fair number of bows. I then decided to strip the bugger which is something I haven't done in quite sometime. This seem to pick up the action quite a bit.



From the downstream side of the Cove I proceeded upstream to the flat pool above the falls of the Cove and it was here my day would be made. It was a bow with every single cast. Seriously...every single cast. I still had that bugger on when the risers started but why in the world would I change I asked myself. Sticking with the bugger I kept on catching fish after fish.

I didn't get an exact count of the bows battled today...but it had to be forty or better. And this was in a two hour time-frame. It was most awesome.

I tired out rather quickly today. I wore a brand new pair of wading boots and that would prove to be a big mistake. Recently I found a brand new (never out of the box) pair of Simm's wading boots that were exactly my size at a garage sale. The folks wanted ten bucks so naturally I swooped them up. The folks at Simm's deserve to be complimented because they certainly put the material in their boots. However for me they were extremely heavy and since they'd never been worn they were stiff as boards. I had a terrible time trying to wade today.



There exists tremendous numbers of bows in this river currently and the river is indeed as clear as I've ever seen her. Each pool will give you something different however. At Coyote Pass the bows weren't stacked up but spread out. At the Cove however, the bows were in packs.

The weather today was absolutely outstanding and the lone bait-fisher I met was the only other angler I saw in the kingdom today.