BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #23

BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #23

I’LL NEVER BE HOME EXCEPT HERE DIRT POOR IN ABANDONED COUNTRY

Long before the valley was catch and release, making a kill was what made the man. Just upstream from the fish hatchery, the Crystal releases its banks into small, meandering tributaries, which, while only a few feet wide, are two-fold deep and carry an occasional lunker Brown. It was these rogue fish I sought when I pried apart the barbed wire fence and found my way on to the rancher’s land. I didn’t carry a rod, because I had discovered the guidance of two toe-headed boys who swore they were part Ute–indigenous to the most rugged places. They confided an ancient fishing technique–walking downstream, you could herd the trout beneath undercut banks, and once sheltered, it was easy to reach down and slide your hands below their soft underbellies. With one swift movement, you could send a thumb through their gills and scoop the fish into the air. The trick was to move your hands back and forth, simulating currents, until the fish were complacent before a strike. As I crept along the stream I saw three dark submarines scurry beneath the bank, and my heart pounded as I realized this plan might actually work. The trout were well over 18-inches. I approached the river on my hands and knees, before slowly reaching my arm under the overhanging grass. For a brief moment I felt something soft and slippery, but it moved further into the current, so I decided to lunge aggressively. The smooth flesh of the meaty tube was replaced by the fur, claws and belly of what felt like a newborn puppy. My harpoon hand found its way to the backside of a Muskrat, and I retracted my hand in terror, avoiding a bite from his wood-chomping incisors. As I think back, I realize I learned a valuable lesson–if you want to be a man, you better take it soft and slow. You better know where you’re putting your hands and how to use them. Worst case, you get bit. – Eric Hause, my brother in arms.

Live from the WORLD HEADQUARTERS

Kea C. Hause esq.

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Riding the stern during a Crystal River float window. Note the hand painted frame, Kea’s art was everywhere and not even visible all of the time. Photo: Copi Vojta