Part 2 - Moose, Mosquitoes, and a Raccoon Eating a Live Chicken!

Our first afternoon in Lapland consisted mainly of storing our gear and
food, and breaking out all the fishing gear. As evening approached we all
started putting together our fly rods, selecting leaders, tippets, and
flies, putting on waders, fishing vests, and all the other fun stuff that
fly fishermen bring along on a clave. Most everyone then started on the long
hike to the river in small groups. I followed Fred, Erik, and Hans through
the moor, and Roger soon caught up and passed us, taking long strides
through the peat bog. When we reached the river, he was already in the deep,
clear water heading for the other side. It was then that I discovered that I
'm definitely height challenged. Roger is 6 feet 5 inches tall and I'm 5
foot 8, so the rest of us searched for another way across. When we did get
over to the other side, a very large cow moose greeted us, and even with all
of Fred's grunts and yells she looked as though she wanted to follow us for
a while before crossing the river and disappearing into the Burch woods on
the other side.

The water was crystal clear and very deep along the banks, absolutely
magnificent! The fishy looking pools, riffles, and quiet water showed no
signs of insects, however there were fish rising here and there, and Hans
negotiated his way along the bank to "rip some lips". Osmo came along and
pointed out a working trout, which I couldn't see, as Fred was casting to
another. I soon left the group to work my way around to the other side of
the island and find a good place to cross the river. I ran into Jarmo who
suggested a Super Pupa in that particular stretch of water, and I waved to
Bob who was on the other side, heading up-stream. I was beat, as jet lag had
finally kicked in, and I was really looking forward to that bunk in the
cabin. It was a hard walk through freshly downed trees gnawed by beavers,
until I got deeper into the Burch woods, and eventually hit the river again
and saw Don on the other side. I picked a place to cross and, holding up my
vest and walking on tiptoes, managed to come within an inch of getting water
down my waders but made it.

Don and I slogged our way back to the cabin and though I could have sworn it
was early evening, I looked at my watch and it was nearly midnight. It never
really got dark all the time we were there. I was looking forward to sitting
in the cabin, telling tales, and sipping a great Swedish beer, but when we
opened the door to the cabin 6,492 mosquitoes greeted us. I was soaking
myself in DEET and wondering how the heck we were going to sleep. The other
guys started returning a few at a time and we managed to get the propane
lantern lit, have a midnight snack, and I washed mine down with a beer. It
was getting pretty chilly and, since I was wearing thick socks and long
underwear on the river, I left them on and crawled into my goose-down
sleeping bag on a top bunk, put a black sleeping mask over my eyes (anyone
for a little BDSM?), mosquito net over my head, and stuck plugs in my ears.
Sleeping wasn't really that hard, as tired as I was, but sometime during the
night one of my earplugs fell out, and I awoke to what sounded exactly like
a raccoon eating a live chicken! Thinking I'd gone blind, due to the mask
and net over my face, I rose up in the bunk and cracked my head on the
ceiling. I managed to get all the sleeping paraphernalia off and discovered
that my raccoon and live chicken was actually Don snoring. At least he
drowned out the incessant buzzing of the mosquitoes. It was really hot in
the cabin so I stripped off the socks and long underwear, got rid of the
sleeping bag altogether, and decided to sleep under the blanket that was
provided with my bunk. I think that Jerome got the worst of it that night,
slapping bugs and cussing in French, English, and other assorted languages.
His arms were nothing but welts when he finally got up in the morning. I was
the first up at 5:30am and sat outside to smoke my pipe and look at the
great scenery. It was a long time before anyone else came out of cabin or
tent to greet the day.

All for now. Next post: Part 3 - Little Trout, Big Trout, and the Penthouse
Up the Hill!

Tight lines,

Tom - somewhere in the Colorado Rockies