Discussion in 'Fly Fishing Forum' started by StiffLegged Van Rossi, Nov 3, 2007.
iagree I think I'm going to mount a little cannon on my float tube...
ha ha ha, I know, I know. :rofl::rofl:
I didn't do this but I knew the guy that did very well and I believe him.
He and his son were drifting flies on Fish lake late one summer eve and catching many fine trout.
When they see a boater heading their way, looks like the boat will cross their lines.
The boat is not coming fast so the dad stands up and waves and yells at the boater that they will cross there lines, so the boater speeds up and before the dad and son can reel in the guy cuts off their lines and never looks back.
When the dad and son get back to where they had payed to park their boat they find the guys boat that had cut off their lines parked in their spot.
The dad talks to his son about people being a--holes and to just let it go, the guy will get what's coming to him some day.
Later that nite the dad goes and takes a big crap on this a--holes boat seat.
I believe all a--holes should be treated equally.
Remember the 3 S's Shoot, Shovel, and Shut-up
I have to say my best story was flyfishing to the pinks below Douglas bar in a small 15ft johnboat I recently sold. I was drifting a buddy from Denver, about every 5 passes we switched up on the rod, and where hitting at least 1 fish per pass, and had a chunk of 60 yards of bank in the West channel to ourselves. Here comes a super v sled out of three rivers, watches us for two passes and honkers down in our run about midway. I just drifted shore side of him a few times, both times hooking a fish just above him and his crew of 4, and playing the fish right in front of him, and shoreside of his boat, the third time down, I just couldn't resist, and said to his clients, "your paying this guy?", "I'll give you guys my card".....he fired her off and we didn't see him the rest of the day. I may have been the smaller baot, but I was the way bigger #$#$head that day, LOL...
I guess you can attack a guys pride in a not so subtle way. I take guys out and have fun putting them on fish, I don't expect to get paid for it. I power down, I give guys space, I give bank anglers their water, I was one once myself, and try to be respectful of a guys water. If I get close to another boat, it's to say hi, ask a few questions, and my rods are out of the water. there are good guys out there on the water, and for the asking, they will show you water..ect. I was just out in my new toy (sled) and not knowing the S river any higher than I was, a guy came up on us asking about the day, we said it was slow, and commented most guys we saw, passed on our water to run higher. "why aren't you up higher" I admitted I didn't knwo the water, and he offered to run us in his wake up quite a ways. and I'm just trying to mentally map the way back. but it was nice of him to offer to let us shadow him a ways upriver....there are good guys on the water, not always, but sometimes....
Guess this falls more in the 'heebie-jeebie' category rather than 'a-hole' category:
A half-dozen years ago I was fishing a tributary of the Skagit to it's mouth. Really a bushwhack. I had casted about a dozen times when a boulder the size of my head came whirring over me and >>SPLASH<< directly in front of where I was wading. Then another, and another... Some were so close the splashed water was running down my face into my eyes. I looked up the bank and saw movement in the salal. Two guys in their late-teen's or early twenties slowly rise. Big kids with close-shaven heads. They did not smile, they did not frown - they no longer tried to conceal themslelves. Just expressionless, wasted and eerie looks on their pasty faces. They were filthy and silent. I immediately thought "Deliverence".
I was maybe 15 feet down an embankment from them and completely helpless. I had no idea if they meant to scare me or kill me. For some reason, the first thing out of my mouth was:
"Hey guys! Howya' doin'!" - like I was going to try to sell them a used car
I don't know why I reacted that way, I could have just as easily become combatant. They just stood there with powerfully blank stares. I had only one way to get away and that was back up the tributary on the opposite bank from where they were. As I walked, they walked at the same pace, shadowing me along the opposing bank. We walked along like this for about 100 yards (seemed like an eternity) and then for whatever reason, they dissappeared back into the woods. As quietly as they had come.
These were not kids from town. These were not meth-heads. These kids lived there, somewhere. Their silence was absolutely terrifying.
Another 200 yards or so later a big canvas bag half-buried in the stream bed caught my eye so I jumped into the stream and unburied it. I opened the bag to find it was stuffed with bones - human sized and probably deer a/o elk. I messed my waders for a second time and high-tailed it for the car. I did call the sherriff when I got home and they said they were very interested in inspecting the contents of the bag but I never heard anything more...
Damn, now that is a great idea for a Wadin Boot story. I carry a gun for a reason, when I am in the boonies by myself and that gave me reassurance.
you answer them with the same face, appear to look very creepy, or like a murderer. then lick your lips. if that does get them running, move towards them up the bank if possible. this may only work for me, ive been told i can look very creepy with my expressions at times. one time i just looked at the person in a car next to me and they almost ran off the highway and i saw the person in the passenger seat jerk awake all of a sudden, that face wasnt even on purpose.
A couple years ago I was fishing Lone Lake with my boyfriend. We were both in float tubes. We were on our way back to the launch when a boat with an electric motor passed by, about 20' from me. I didn't think much of it (hey, maybe he didn't see me) until he turned the boat and did a pretty tight U-turn around my float tube. The two gear chuckers had their lines in the water and as the lines cut around me one of the lures caught one of my gravel guards. They towed me around for a second before my shouting got their attention. I cut his line and kept the lure. All I could think to say was WTF?
Double Darn, beat me to it .....:thumb:
Great idea but it's hard to look creepy/like a murderer wearing waders, a dainty fly rod and a pink and turquoise lanyard (my 5 & 7 year-old daughters beaded for my birthday)- Come to think of it, I'm surprised nobody had thrown rocks at me before.
I know some cops say to pee yourself when attacked (my dog does that) but all that did was fill my boots.
holy crap. are you serious? that would totally freak me out!
Thanks, Fred. You’re going to need a lower case 'd' in darn genius!
Bleed a fish down the front of your waders, swing the beads around in the air making pseudo voodoo chants. That'll freak them out. :rofl:
Float tubing Lk Ballinger with a friend about 15 years ago. We were 150 yards out from the golf course when golf balls start splasing down around us. My buddy is 6'3" 220# and at the time threw a 90 mph fastball in the baseball league. He yells at them to stay put 'cause we're coming ashore. The 4 guys were standing on the bank and jacked about a dozen more balls our way before they realized my buddy was kicking at mach speed and they were about to take a beating.
About 50 yards from shore they all grab their bags and go running to the parking lot and took off. It was pretty funny after the fact.
I'll keep the Darrington stories to myself
Two summers ago fishing the Snoho near hwy 522. Walked out to the bank and started casting to rising fish. About ten minutes into my day an older man who didn't speak English and had a nice fermented aroma decided to silently walk into my backcast. I lost a comet to his jacket. He wasn't angry and I apologized thinking all would be well and good. He proceded to park himself within a few feet of me and rig up a snag hook (AK style). I did my best to let him know that it wasn't OK but I couldn't communicate with him. I moved down the bank a bit to try and avoid hooking him again. After about a half hour I see him float by me with his rod and tackle box under arm. My first thought was that this guy needs to be saved. Then I noticed the WDFW officer walking down the bank towards me and I realized that he new the rules, took the risk, and was willing to float home as punishment for his misdeed. The officer just shook her head and asked for my license.
I retired from combat fish at blue creek about ten years ago. On that very last day it was crowded more than usual, but if you got there early, you got a decent spot and normally good people to fish and joke with for the day, so sometimes not so bad, even when shoulder to shoulder. Well on this day, i see this joker with a "tackle box" working his way to the middle of the pack. As he walked behind me, i figured he was going to the other side of the line as we were all literaly shoulder to shoulder, but still having a great time. To my absolute amazement, a rod bumps my shoulder and appears at the side of my face. this guy is standing behind me, leaning his rod inbetween us to cast. We all fell silent. i think we were all in shock, and waiting to see who would speak up first. well this guy casts his rod, bumping me again and snags up. he says, wow, there sure is a lot of snags out here. i'm so mad, i'm counting to 10 as slow as is possible while remembering to breath. i advise him that there are less snags at the end of the line, but my suttle hint is ignored. so i get an idea, elbow my partners and set the hook on an invisible fish as hard as is possible. to my surprise, the rod did not break when i hit him in the face with it. i sheepishly said sorry, cast out again, and wouldn't ya know, better set the hook, Bam! Crack! and Blood. busted his chop and now with a badly cut lip he leaves.
Lot's of interesting stories of bad ettiquite. I and a bud were fishing the pink run this year in the Sky below 522. My buddy is gear chucking a deep hole at the end of a long run and I'm flying the tail out. A guy in a drift boat floats up, anchors above the hole my bud is fishing and gears in for a couple of pinks while my bud is fishing the same hole from the bank, with no success.
While this floater is catching the pinks he loses an oar. So here I am, 150 ft downstream, thigh deep in the tailout, when my bud yells at me to catch the oar. I guess it's more his call than mine, since he was the one poached on in my opinion, but I did think about letting that guy single hand his drifter till he caught up to his oar somewhere downstream.
Anyway, like so many gentlemen (wimps?) on this thread, I caught his oar and slid it to him as he drifted by, even though I though he was a jerk. I guess I haven't fished in this environment long enough to feel confidant in calling a butt-hole a butt-hole.
Here's another story falling into the heebie-jeebie category.
One April when I was in school at UMT in Missoula I was fishing Rock Creek pre-runnoff and having one of the best days of my flyfishing life to that point. I had landed somehwere between 15-20 fish in 2 hours of fishing on both dries and nymphs during one of those special pre-runnoff days you sometimes get when you time it right in MT. In any case, in my excitement I had wandered about 2 miles from my car on the opposite side of the river and I had not seen another soul all day when all of the sudden I just got this odd feeling that someone was watching me. I had all the classic symptoms, goosebumps, hair raised on the back of my neck, etc. Plus, I kept hearing pebbles hitting the gravel around me. However, I was having a great day so didn't want to leave plus i figured I was just freaking myself out because I hadn't seen anyone all day. Anyway, after awhile I was so creeped out that I made a deal with myself. I thought, if I catch a Bull Trout with my next cast I'll leave because that will be a sign that I really have something to worry about.
First off, let me mention that I had never caught a Bull trout to that point in my life (grew up in Connecticut), hence the reason for making that deal with myself.
Anyway, as you probably guessed, with my very next cast I hooked and landed A 25 inch bull trout. I didn't know whether to jump for joy or sprint to my car. I decided that a sign is a sign and after unhooking the fish I decided I had better start heading back to the car and not push my luck and that is when I noticed some creep kneeling next to a tree in the woods on the edge of the gravel bar I was fishing. Right when I noticed him he lazily flicked a pebble in my direction without a smile, or a hello. I had no idea how long he had been watching me but I had that wierd feeling for going on an hour plus I had been hearing the pebbles for awhile at that point. In any case I gave him a smile-less nod to acknowledge his presence, which he ignored with a blank stare, and I coninued towards my car. The funny thing is that I was a bit pissed at that point. Was this guy trying to intimidate me in some way? I was angry and a bit freaked out all at the same time. In any case, because I was pissed, I stopped at the next hole on a bend and made a few half-hearted casts while the creep continued to watch me. I didn't want him to think his creepy "local" routine was gonna work on me, plus I was young and a bit hard-headed and was not going to let some ass run me off great fishing. After a few more casts I continued around the Bend and made it back to my car just as it was getting dark.
To this day I still have no idea who the guy was. I never saw him again. I don't recall a house anywhere near that part of Rock Creek, and definitely not on that side of the river. My guess is that it was just a local out fishing himself being a prick for no good reason because I was fishing "his" section of river at one of the few times during the year when the fishing is good and the river is not crowded with tourists.
This is my favorite. Teach the kid a valuable lesson AND get revenge!
4 days ago, I got lowholed by not 1 person, but 4 people, all within 50 or so feet of me. Two baitcasters came down and started fishing the pool at the bottom of the run, and two flyfisherman, after watching me for a little while, stepped into the river between myself and the baitcasters. there were good runs not more than a hundred yards in either direction that had no one fishing them, and were perfectly visable from where these guys had parked their rigs. I probably woulda been more pissed but they all got to watch me land two steelhead.... while they caught nothing.