Weird Things on the River

Matt Burke

Active Member
windtickler said:
In five years, I have never known this site to be family oriented. Fisherman? That is just crazy talk. What is with dogging people about how they right? You obviously haven't read all of Oldman's 8000 plus posts and learned some sort of tolerence.


I just get back from vacation and have to read all this crap? Keep the posts on topic or I'm going to start locking things up. We don't need moral debates on what the content of this message board are in a thread titled Weird Things on the River.
Lex, I apologize publicly.

Sorry you misconstrued my point about having a degree and not being able to write. I wasn't flaming you. Flaming is against the rules, I know because I just read them, surprised by some of the stuff on here that did <i>not</i> offend IBN. My point was any educated person is a writer. I mean really, if you make it through 12th grade you should have certain skills in our native language, but if you graduate college in a technical program like molecular biology, you certainly must have advanced writing skills. Therefore I was stating, apparently not very clearly, that your skills were probably roughly equivalent to Gris's.

You can't even compliment somebody here any more.

For the record, I wasn't even taking sides, or suggesting that we only "right" clean stuff. I was clarifying Gris's post and proposing a win-win. I understand adult content. Hell, I got fired from a column in an a beer magazine for "promoting debauchery." I was a little too Hunter S Thompson for them.

I think it can be very powerful to write about certain experiences and the positive effects FF can have on a person's life. I inherited my first fly rod from a man who shot himself in the head and decided to take up the pastime partly in homage to him. I think that might be powerful and inspiring, but could be told moreso without resorting to being crude. Likewise I think the battles with addiction, etc are powerful and worth telling, so the back stories here were interesting. And the weird stories are fun, too.

However, I didn't see Gris's comments as passive agressive, more resigned, and I was trying to constructively make some comments on how maybe we could elevate above this stuff instead "hijacking" the post, I thought maybe we had some good stories without having to toss the feces around the cage (that generally seems to happen around the 3rd page of any thread anyway.) I'm currently teaching an 8 year old girl to fly fish. She already keeps a journal and is Web savvy. Wouldn't it be nice if she could come here and visit, or even post?

Anyway, the weirdest that happened to me this year is that I saw a beaver (as in castor canadensis, not pudenda[]) floating backwards down the river, about 10' from me as I stood in waste deep water. I figured it was dead, which was weird enough, and about dropped my rod when it opened its eyes and looked directly at me. Then Jason found that lamprey thing, which is very weird, but suddenly explained why bunny leeches work.

Oh, and I saw Backyard break a fly line in half, tie a leader onto the remaining section and rope a steelhead on the next cast. That was weird, but he's kind of supernatural anyway.

Oh, and a gear guy practicing catch and release. How weird is that?

Zen Piscator

Supporting wild steelhead, gravel to gravel.
Mulligan said:
Griswald: Don't let that onesie get too tight, it's bound to start a fight

Mulligan, thats the funnies shit I have seen in a while. I'm now not that mad at you for uploading a bunch of photos on the gallery a few months back and pushing mine off the gallery mainpage, I did not PM you with my dissatisfaction and chose to suffer quietly. Appology accepted.

Reguarding Backyard, has anyone noticed how nasty of a fisherman that dude is. I would put him up against anyone, its pure debotchery.

For example, I broke about 15 feet off my 4wt 2nd in command flyline today and didn't catch a steelhead on my next cast. I'm super serail.

One time I saw Manbearpig on the river,


Active Member
Here's a funny thing I used to see every year, although it was on a lake and not a river:

300 miles away, the City of Los Angeles manages the opening day of the trout season on Lake Crowley as a PR photo-op. The day after the Saturday opener, the Sunday edition of the L.A. Times trumpets the city's recreational opportunities with a front page photo of the "aluminum hatch." The fishermen are always under blue skies, the trout are always "feisty," and the bait is usually pink or red.

The night before, Highway 395, the most direct route from Los Angeles to Crowley, is virtually crawling bumper to bumper with cars, SUVs, campers, and pick-ups with boat trailers. They line up at the south gate early in the eveningand it's not long before the tailgate parties begin.

At midnight, the gates open and the hordes drive down to the lake. Those with boats queue up at the launch while the shorebound anglers try to park as close to the lake as they can.

Lake Crowley is a flooded cow pasture created by the Long Valley Dam as part of the great L.A. water grab of the 1920's and was one of the largest lakes of it's kind in the country. During the summer, the lake is drawn down by the city to water the lawns of the San Fernando valley. The exposed muddy lake bottom is baked by the sun and a 6-inch hard crust is formed on top of the soft mud. In the early spring, before the snow runoff refills the lake, there can be up to a half mile of hard crust surrounding the lake – just in time for the opener. In the dark, just after midnight, under a black starlit night, it looks perfect for driving up to the shore of the lake to await the hour before sunrise, when it's legal to begin fishing.

In the morning, it looks like Montgomery has wiped out Rommel at El Alamein. From north to south, there are deep, ugly black scars leading down to the lake ending with a car or truck buried deep down over it's axles in mud. There are black footprints all around the wheels and doors and, most of the time, there's at least a couple men standing near the rear of the car with their caps in their hand scratching their heads.

Two weeks later, after the last pickup is winched out of the mud, Crowley becomes the finest fly fishing lake in the west, if not the country.


Paul Huffman

Driven by irrational exuberance.
Jeez, Coach, watch out when you see stuff like that. That was a common routine in Nam, but maybe you didn't see it that much in Storm. It pushed my "Danger, danger, Forest Ranger" buttons. If you follow her back across the bridge, her four brothers jump you, beat the bejezzus out of you, and take your money and your smokes. That would ruin your buzz.

Matt Burke

Active Member
Leland, That would be a horrific sight. Tow truck drivers must have made out like bandits.
Paul Huffman said:
"Danger, danger, Forest Ranger"
Coach's story of an ethereal angel on the water, or lady of the lake syndrome, couldn't ever be dangerous. I've had incidents like that, seeing a pretty face from out of nowhere. These angels seem to have a presence about them. I really notice it when I see the lady game warden up on the NF Stilly. She is a stunning woman in uniform, weapon at her side, peering out on the river, searching for crazed snaggers. Man, I'd let her beat me up.


Pool Spooker
Back here in the east streams are crowded. I mean crowded.

I saw a guy snag another guys eye on the follow through with a large streamer.

I laughed, but I felt bad for the guy.
Oh I have got one, I don't know how wierd it is. But I was up on the NFL just past the Lower falls fishing one day and I was on my way back and got lost on the trail and started to climb up a steep hill once I got to the top of the Hill I was standing next to an Old Growth tree and walked around the tree and standing there was a Black Bear about 5 foot tall, I looked right at him, I couldn't help it cause I almost bumped into him, Scared the Bejezus out of me, I threw up my arms and my fly rod went flying and yelled as loud as I could and started to run back down the hill I tripped and started rolling(that is not fun) finally a small tree stopped me, took my breath away. I looked up the hill to see if he was following and he was hauling A$$ back up the other side of the hill. Whew that was close. I am glad I scared him as much as he scared me.
p.s. as a side note Tye, you know I think there might be some Sasquatch up on that river sometimes. I know you are going to say I am crazy but I ran across the Head of the Bigfoot chapter a couple of years ago on the Klickitat and struck a conversation with him and he gave all kinds of tips as to Identify if a Big foot is in the area.He said one Identifying mark is that these Big Foot will leave these little rock pyrimads along side the road.anybody ever see those ?? anyway I have seen them up past the falls on the Washougal and other places. Yeah okay someone could have put them there but hey you never know! :)


Stephen Mull
Some buddies and I were hanging out in the bar in Rockport on the Skagit a couple springs ago and got invited back to an "after party" at the nearby trailer park. Hell of a scene that trailer was.

While bait chucking on Greenlake once I hooked a Canadian Goose mid-flight and it spooled me off across the lake.
Sea Story; Attn Coach Duff

This is only medium odd, but it happened recently, which means the weirdest thing is that I remember it at all....

I met up with some guys this summer at Merrill Lake to fish the hexagenia three ring circus, so there were a group of us watching the show. So there I was (now you know it's a 'sea story' Coach) in my belly boat up in the narrow end of the lake, to the right of the boat launch. One of the guys I was there with is Russian, so his command of the language stutter-stepped a little when he got excited.

I'm hooked up to a modest sized trout less than 50 feet away, back pedaling to keep the line tight, when Val yells at me "Don, look out"! So I'm looking around, figure I'm gonna bump into log, another boat, or what the?? You never anticipate Death From Above. But then, I hear something whooshy, and look back in front of me, and the local Bald Eagle is just grabbing the trout right off my line, and I mean big sumbitch, close enough to look him in the eye. Being more articulate than my immigrant buddy, I made a noise you'd hear in the dentists office, and then jerked the line so hard we both lost the fish. That would be me and the bird. Extreme belly laugh ensued.

Five minutes later, I'm into another fish, and here he comes again. So the question is: are you harrassing the national bird to wave your cigar and shout and splash and stuff? I wanted to watch the show again, but really, really didn't want to get hooked up to him, which is likely because he's good. While it was only the first time for me, Baldy had been practising this act long time, and he wasn't gentle.

And that's no shit. (that's the second 1/2 of a sea story, you have to finish with "and that's no shit". Don't ask me why, I'm just following the recipe) Any one else catch the show this summer? I assume it was a daily routine.

Also, Coach Duff; I've spent more mornings than I can count starting my day the way you described,(except for the chick) and I'm still here to drool over it. Must be the fine finishing school we went to. There's a spot in the whaler for you anytime you want to chase fish in the south sound. PM me.

Don F 5th Marines, '68 USMC#2400334

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