Part 4 - False Finns, Rain, and Walking on Water!

On Thursday, August 5th, Bob, Don, Jarmo, and I took the boat downstream,
and trolled streamers past the big bend where we had dinner the night
before, and then down to a cabin near a nice set of rapids. When Roger and
some of the guys went down there a couple days before, they came back with
tales of seeing a bunch of drunks in that area that were singing Finnish
songs next to a portable sauna, and Osmo had yelled a few things to them in
his language. Keeping an eye out for drunken Finns, we came to shore and
started fishing. All the browns we caught were very small, 8 to 10 inch
fish. Bob and Jarmo went farther downstream past the rapids to try to find
larger quarry. I followed them for a ways, and sat in the shade admiring the
rapids, which reminded me of a few rivers in Colorado.

Meanwhile, Don, as inquisitive as ever, was snooping around the portable
sauna. When I got back up-stream, I found him talking to a Swedish gentleman
who said he was once a professor at the University of Helsinki. the drunken
Finn that Osmo had been talking to. Don and I waited for Jarmo and Bob to
get back, while more Swedes that had been hiking a mountain in that area
came down to use the sauna. The mosquitoes were thick along the river, and I
was very glad I was wearing the "Buzz Off" fishing shirt that I brought from
home. Several of the guys had their eye on it since we first arrived, but
being the smallest member of the group, it wouldn't have fit anyone else.
When the others came back to the boat, we rowed back up-stream. Bob caught a
few fish while trolling, but none more than 14".

That night the mosquitoes were as bad as ever in the cabin, but each of us
dealt with them as best we could. Again, Jerome got the worst of it.

Friday arrived, and we were anxious to meet Myron and Vaughan. Roger had
hiked up a mountain the previous day and left them a message from his cell
phone. please bring mosquito coils!! Fred, Erik, and Jarmo had decided to
leave the clave early, so they spent the morning packing up their stuff for
the ride out. The helicopter finally arrived, and we said our goodbyes to
Fred, Erik, and Jarmo, and hello to Myron, Vaughan, and the mosquito coils
that they had brought with them. The coils worked great, and we no longer
had a bug problem in the cabin for the rest of the trip.

It started raining that morning, and we heard a lot of thunder in the
distance. It was actually quite refreshing, and several of us stood outside
and enjoyed the cool rainwater on our faces. I geared up to go fishing
upstream again, and walked through the bog and woods to where, in previous
days, I'd found an easy place for me to cross the river. I left the bank and
waded the water, which was normally up around my waste. This time, however,
the current took me sidestepping at some speed downstream, and the water
seemed to be quite a bit higher than I remembered. I waded against the
current until it got shallower, and crawled up the bank on the other side.
The river had definitely risen since the last time I'd crossed there.

There's a big, deep pool farther upstream where we'd seen big trout rise a
few times, and it was one of Bob's favorite places to fish. Next to the pool
is a large sandbar with more deep water running behind it. Jarmo and I had a
nice cup of tea on that beach one day, and Bob took a nap there one
afternoon, his head resting on a large rock about 2 meters from the water's
edge. Today it was a sand island, the rock completely surrounded by water.
Although it had quit raining where I was, I could still hear thunder from
the northwest. Even farther upstream was a large rock that stuck out into
the river and about a foot above the water. Today it was completely under
water. Bob came along and said what a hard time he'd had crossing the river.
We monitored the rise of the river and it was still rising. We were trying
to figure out a place to cross back without drowning, when Osmo comes
walking toward us wearing hip boots, barely wet above the knees. "Can Finns
walk on water?" I wondered aloud. He laughed and showed us a nice safe place
to cross, not too deep but with a heavy current. We used his crossing from
that point on.

Hans continued to fish the lake exclusively. He had a tendency to get lost
trying to get back to the cabin, and since Bob and Myron had walky-talkies,
we made sure that he carried one with him. Don had a whistle that he and Bob
used to find each other when separated on the river. Bob and Don were
sitting at the cabin when they heard a strange voice over the walky-talky.
" Hello Kevin, come in!" "Come in, Kevin!" " Kevin, blow your whistle!" Don
and Bob wondered who the heck Kevin was, and thought that if they ignored
the call, these strangers might go away. Of course it turned out to be Hans,
lost again, and trying to call "Cabin" - not "Kevin" as it had sounded
through the receiver. Don blew his whistle and guided the poor guy right up
to where he was sitting.

All for now... next post: Part 5 - The Lake, Lots of Trout, and The Biggest
Trout of All

Tight lines,

Tom - somewhere in the Colorado Rockies