TR: Autumn on the Rapid

"Bill Grey" wrote in message
...
You know? I've never fallen in a river. The nearest I came to it was when
I was quite young when waring waders, one leg started to float and I
almost went over. Not the sort of river you play in though.

That I should be so lucky......I've taken a few doozies in my time. Then, a
decade-plus ago, I met Frank Reid. Now, my falls, as I look back on them,
seem minimal.
Tom

On Sep 16, 5:50*am, "Tom Littleton" wrote:
"Bill Grey" wrote in message

... You know? I've never fallen in a river. *The nearest I came to it was when
I was quite young when waring waders, one leg started to float and I
almost went over. *Not the sort of river you play in though.

That I should be so lucky......I've taken a few doozies in my time. Then, a
decade-plus ago, I met Frank Reid. *Now, my falls, as I look back on them,
seem minimal.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Tom

I had a doozie of a fall this summer, fishing with Roger and a friend
of his.

The Byske river runs by Roger's cabin, and until a handful of years
ago was punctuated with long rock dams running parallel with the flow,
midstream. But the community hired some tractor artist to modify the
riverbed by moving the rock dams around to improve salmon runs. The
result, other than filling in the deep holes and destroying the
greyling fishing, was to create sections where the footprint of the
rock dams were trashed and treacherous to wade. You walk along, waist
deep, feeling for the next step with your toes while the current
pushes you, then you inevitably slam your knee into a rock and have to
step up onto it so you are shin-deep. The next step is a leap of
faith...either onto a flat rock that is waist deep again, or some
rolly boulder that is knee deep, or possibly some forever hole that
floats your hat. It can take 15-20 minutes to work your way down 50
feet of stream, not fishing at all, until you pass the damage zone,
stressed and anxious with every step.

I was working my way down such a region, with Roger and friend
watching from downstream, when I found myself chest deep and feeling
for a drop-off in front of me. However, I could see a shallow boulder
only a couple of feet in front of me, and there was no way to go
sideways, so I was a bit committed. I remarked to Roger "This f**king
river is so destroyed! You can't even figure out how to place your
feet to wade! It can drop out over your head without warning!!" As
they watched me, I stepped across onto the shallow rock, and started
to stand up on it. At that moment, I lost my balance and took a step
backward...right into the black water. The current caught me as I fell
backwards and pushed me forwards again, but not before I sank up to my
neck and totally filled my waders with water. I stood up, swore
loudly, took a step forward and the next missplaced rock hit me in the
knee and I face planted right in the shallows, soaking my front also.

That ended the fishing for me for that night. It was just too damn
frustrating stumbling around on the rocks, unsure of the footing and
cursing the idiot who drove a tractor down the riverbed, tearing up
the river-placed rocks.

--riverman