Pescando en el Rio Yakima
My fishing experience was very special, for safety reasons it
always included family outings. There’s
no way I would be allowed near the river or lake by myself at that age (we are
talking nine or ten years old). My
mother was very protective, and possible overly cautious. I can honestly say that I inherited that from
her. When the family moved to the
Northwest from Texas, is when we became (especially me) one with nature
(everything and anything outdoors). I
totally identify with the large number of Dallas Cowboy fans, even if my NFL
team allegiance belongs elsewhere. When
I lived in Texas, I was so young but already indoctrinated into believing that
no other State mattered. Some of the
more popular television programs helped to heighten the hype. One such program was “Tales of the Texas
Rangers,” (1955-59). There again
television programing of the 1950’s and 60’s will be material for another blog
posting.
I guess the relevance is that in Texas I was a city boy, and
when we arrived in Washington State I became a country boy. The relocation introduced me to my 21 year
old step brother that I was meeting for the first time. I swear if you looked up outdoors in the dictionary,
his picture would be there. He was a
hard working foreman at a large farm (approximately 7,000 acres). I was so impressed with his work ethic, and
especially his well-rounded skills. His
truck had a gun rack and he regularly would go pheasant hunting on his way home
from work (during open season of course).
He taught me how to fish, how to ride horse, drive tractor, he even
introduced me to deer hunting. I don’t
think I’ve ever told him but I owe him a big debt of gratitude for helping me
build the foundation that would become the life platform on which I still
stand. That is another great subject for
future posting.
Meanwhile back at the farm; before I got caught up in the world
of work (due to age limitations) fishing was a regular part of my day. We had ponds on the property that were
stocked with fish, and whenever possible we would fish off the side of the
river that bordered our property. I must
remind you that we didn’t have Nintendo, Xbox, or any other Game Systems. We actually had to use our bodies and minds
to keep ourselves entertained. It wasn’t
unusual for me to be riding a horse from one pasture to another and make
believe that I was being chased by outlaws, or god forbid a band of wild Native
Americans (politically correct). Now
back to fishing and the reason I quit.
It was a typically beautiful hot summer day with not a
cloud in the sky (easy 87 degrees). The
river was as usual running beautifully fast and smooth taking the mountain snow
melt right past our property. The river
water level was low typical of the time of year, and there were many boulders
that were sticking out above the water level.
Being the adventures type that I’ve always been I took all my fishing
gear (tackle box, fishing pole, fish net, some bait, a couple of candy bars,
and a soda), and jumped from boulder to boulder until I was half way into the
river some 20 feet from shore. My arms
were actually filled to overload.
Approximately three and a half hours later, after catching my limit for
the day, I decide to get back to shore.
By now the river level was a little higher and some of the
smaller stepping stones were no longer above water, so what had been a fairly
easy skip and jump out to the fishing spot was now a larger jump, and jump
situation. You see, when the gap is that
far apart, you have to keep your momentum going, to complete the jump. To make a long story short the last boulder
that I jumped on to had a curled snake laying on it enjoying the warmth from
the boulder. In retrospect, it was
probably all of 18 inched long, but at the time it may as well have been a
python, or rattle snake. By the time I
saw the snake I couldn’t do anything but land on it. The snake wrapped itself around my ankle, and
that night I couldn’t sleep from the experience. I never went fishing again, unless it was
from a boat, and only into my twenties.
That is about as big and bad as my fishing story gets. What’s
your best fishing story? Stay tuned
the best is yet to come…..
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