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Proud to Be Alaskan
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The day I fished the Metolious River I wasn't really expecting to catch much. I decided that it wasn't too far out of my way from Eugene to the Deschutes to take the pass and head down that way. I had heard there were browns there, and having never caught a brown I figured I should fish this piece of famed water. So I wandered up the trail to the headwaters in the cool shade of the forest on an August morning and saw where the river rushed from the ground, full size. Its a gorgeous river, full of flowers, cold and clear. I was under equipped, first off I totally forgot my nymph dry box back in Alaska, leaving me with a weird assortment of streamers, and attractor patters. So I did what any logical person would do in that situation, and tied on a royal coachman dry to my 5x leader and started fishing. I got one rise and decided to nymph. Of course I didn't have a big golden stone nymph to sink my point fly, which was the smallest fly I had, a size 14 red copper john, which looks nothing like something someone should fish in a clear spring creak, so I tied the copper john to the back of a big heavy woolly bugger and started fishing a hole, that I could actually see fish in. I fished that hole hard, hooked a couple of whitefish, my first mountain whitefish actually, so that was cool, I also got to see a huge fish, which I assume was a bull trout chase the hooked whitefish around the pool, which was also very cool. I wanted a brown though so I kept working pools with streamers, just like back home, really I probably would have done way better throwing mice, stripping fast and moving a lot. I got nothing though, but I didn't see any fish either.

Today I did the unthinkable, I asked a girl (well a woman really) out with a facebook message. Doing that kind of thing just kills me, its so so lame, really, but I have a good excuse, I'm not gonna go into it to try and keep her identity anonymous, but it made a lot of sense at the time. I can picture her at her computer, being surprised, wondering what to write, what to think. Just like a trout, looking at a royal coachman.

Back in Oregon I had decided to move a few miles downstream to where the river became deep and wide, someone told me there was decent sight fishing down there. I pulled the rod out of the old crown victoria my grandma leant me humming a Greg Brown song, I'd had stuck in my head since I started fishing the waters he mentions in the song. I walked down the well worn trail through the forested desert as the heat of the day wafted down on me. In the air hung insects of all sorts, buzzing, flitting, nicely, no mosquitos, no gnats, nothing to drive me mad. I was most interested of course in the caddis flies that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the odd blue winged olive emerging from the cold water. I drank in the sun with my chapped face, enjoying this last hurrah of summer before I headed off to face the weather and my demons.

I stood above an eroded cut-bank and looked at the pool created by a bridge piling. There in the current seam sat four trout, one looked to be 16 inches and a rainbow, a nice fish for sure. Another was a dinky 8 inch rainbow, swimming around the pool lazily, popping up to eat a bug every once in a while. Next was what I imagine was a 15 inch brown, the fish I wanted, it too was wondering looking for snacks, I kept thinking it was eating something, an emerger maybe. Next was the big fish, I mean big, I've spent my whole life chasing Alaskan rainbows and salmon, yet this fish made my jaw drop. It was a bull, maybe a brown, who knows. Then the fish did the unthinkable and tipped up opened its great mouth and sucked a bug under. A bolt of electricity shot down my spine, like the one the first time I saw a trout smash a mouse, like the first time I hooked a steelhead, like the decision in my head to try for my first kiss. I struggled to find a match in my depleted box, I had nothing, one fly that looked like a caddis if you squinted a little. Alright, if I clip some hackle here, and pull out and crimp some of that deerhair its passible. Ok how do I make this cast, it has to be perfect. Kneel there, throw, big mend. Ok got it.

I stumbled down the bank, trying to move slowly and not spook the fish. I knelt down and realized I had limited backcast room. Line on the water, shooting line stretched, scandi cast, anchor touch down, flip forward, right on, nice cast, ok mend, ok wait, wait, wait, wait, oh good drift, good drift, my heart is in my stomach, my eye's unblinking, I see nothing but that fly and that fish, closer, closer, little mend, ok great, closer, on top, come on!!!! past, down stream, shit nothing... Ok try again, maybe to the cruiser, there he is throw, nice cast, here he comes, oh boy, up, nope... Ok no problem, try again, cast nothing, cast to that other fish, that 8 incher will eat right? Nope.

Why am I fishing for a thirty plus inch fish anyway? I'm using a five weight with super light line, if it decided to move ten feet it'd get under that bridge into the white water and snap me off for sure. Why am I even trying with this girl? I don't even no if I can handle being in a relationship at all, so deep is the scar from the last, I don't know if I can fall in love again, I don't even know this person, chances are slim we will fall in love, even slimmer that we will spend years together. So why do I cast? Why cast at a fish you have no chance of landing? I think the great one put it best when he said "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take," and while hockey has very little to do with women or fish this is the case. If you don't make the cast you will never hook that fish, and you will never know if you will touch her.

Time to switch it up, 5x is my smallest tippet, ok can't go smaller, lets see what do I have. I thumb my box open and look. My mind goes back to the last time I was faced with a rising fish in a weird place, "green drake" I think. Now I have no clue if the Metolious has a green drake hatch, but I would bet that trout remember these giant bugs, and in a lot of situations if you throw something that they remember to be good food you will do well. I tie on that battered green wulf that caught the fish on the Branch and the fish on the Kenai. The 16 inch rainbow tips up as if to eat.

So this particular woman, is a lot like that 16 inch rainbow, from the time I've spent with her, I'd love to date her, she seems like my type. She is very cute, very pretty, not a super model but nowhere near the other extreme. A sixteen inch rainbow is a great trout, I'm happy catching one any day of the week, but they aren't the most beautiful fish in the world (I'd say its a tie between the golden trout and those grayling in the upper chena), but rainbows aren't the ugliest, in fact they are down right pretty fish. A sixteen inch fish is just what I want to catch some days, will usually rise to a dry fly, and fight admirably, but isn't the trophy, isn't the once in a life time fish that haunts you for years if you lose her, and gives you the shakes for the rest of your life if you get a picture holding her. Now I don't want to give the impression I'm reducing women to fish, the nice thing about people, and why they intrigue me, and why I think love is worth it is that you can be with them for a long time, and you can watch them become that perfect thing, the once in a lifetime person, I mean this person could become that 30 inch dry fly eating bull that still gives me the shakes when I close my eyes. The risk and fear, and gratification, and sheer joy of being in love, and the sheer sorrow of heartbreak cannot be replicated in a trout stream, no matter how hard you work to slot yourself into a canyon, no matter what you give up to be a trout bum.

The fish swims closer, its mouth opens, my fly.... goes nowhere, the trout's mouth closes. It swims off.
 

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Great story!

Many a composed and seasoned and fully sane professional loses his/her mind at the sight of a rising 30 inch fish and when searching for the right one. The realness of the scatterbrainy back and forth is impressive. We usually don't write like we think. You seem to have captured a window to it though. Got to get down to that river. I don't think there are browns though.
 

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2,630 Posts
Yeah - do yourself a favor and don't ever ask out a girl on facebook again.

Man up and pick the right fly (outfit) tie a good knot (plan a date) and cast perfectly (ask her out)

Women appreciate and long for confidence. Much alike the old saying here that "the best fly, is the one you fish confidently". Asking my wife out on a date was probably the scariest thing that I ever did in my life. I was completely smitten with her. She was that 30 incher for me, out of my league... I thought - no way am I going to land this girl. But, just like you said, it required a leap of faith to take some shots. To be honest, I totally botched asking her out and was embarrassed. But, for whatever reason (an answered prayer I think) - she thought that was cute and ended up talking to me a couple days later. The rest is sweet history, we've been married a year and a half.

Thanks for the great story. I was totally there!
 

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Honorary Member
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10,205 Posts
The day I fished the Metolious River I wasn't really expecting to catch much. I decided that it wasn't too far out of my way from Eugene to the Deschutes to take the pass and head down that way. I had heard there were browns there, and having never caught a brown I figured I should fish this piece of famed water. So I wandered up the trail to the headwaters in the cool shade of the forest on an August morning and saw where the river rushed from the ground, full size. Its a gorgeous river, full of flowers, cold and clear. I was under equipped, first off I totally forgot my nymph dry box back in Alaska, leaving me with a weird assortment of streamers, and attractor patters. So I did what any logical person would do in that situation, and tied on a royal coachman dry to my 5x leader and started fishing. I got one rise and decided to nymph. Of course I didn't have a big golden stone nymph to sink my point fly, which was the smallest fly I had, a size 14 red copper john, which looks nothing like something someone should fish in a clear spring creak, so I tied the copper john to the back of a big heavy woolly bugger and started fishing a hole, that I could actually see fish in. I fished that hole hard, hooked a couple of whitefish, my first mountain whitefish actually, so that was cool, I also got to see a huge fish, which I assume was a bull trout chase the hooked whitefish around the pool, which was also very cool. I wanted a brown though so I kept working pools with streamers, just like back home, really I probably would have done way better throwing mice, stripping fast and moving a lot. I got nothing though, but I didn't see any fish either.

Today I did the unthinkable, I asked a girl (well a woman really) out with a facebook message. Doing that kind of thing just kills me, its so so lame, really, but I have a good excuse, I'm not gonna go into it to try and keep her identity anonymous, but it made a lot of sense at the time. I can picture her at her computer, being surprised, wondering what to write, what to think. Just like a trout, looking at a royal coachman.

Back in Oregon I had decided to move a few miles downstream to where the river became deep and wide, someone told me there was decent sight fishing down there. I pulled the rod out of the old crown victoria my grandma leant me humming a Greg Brown song, I'd had stuck in my head since I started fishing the waters he mentions in the song. I walked down the well worn trail through the forested desert as the heat of the day wafted down on me. In the air hung insects of all sorts, buzzing, flitting, nicely, no mosquitos, no gnats, nothing to drive me mad. I was most interested of course in the caddis flies that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the odd blue winged olive emerging from the cold water. I drank in the sun with my chapped face, enjoying this last hurrah of summer before I headed off to face the weather and my demons.

I stood above an eroded cut-bank and looked at the pool created by a bridge piling. There in the current seam sat four trout, one looked to be 16 inches and a rainbow, a nice fish for sure. Another was a dinky 8 inch rainbow, swimming around the pool lazily, popping up to eat a bug every once in a while. Next was what I imagine was a 15 inch brown, the fish I wanted, it too was wondering looking for snacks, I kept thinking it was eating something, an emerger maybe. Next was the big fish, I mean big, I've spent my whole life chasing Alaskan rainbows and salmon, yet this fish made my jaw drop. It was a bull, maybe a brown, who knows. Then the fish did the unthinkable and tipped up opened its great mouth and sucked a bug under. A bolt of electricity shot down my spine, like the one the first time I saw a trout smash a mouse, like the first time I hooked a steelhead, like the decision in my head to try for my first kiss. I struggled to find a match in my depleted box, I had nothing, one fly that looked like a caddis if you squinted a little. Alright, if I clip some hackle here, and pull out and crimp some of that deerhair its passible. Ok how do I make this cast, it has to be perfect. Kneel there, throw, big mend. Ok got it.

I stumbled down the bank, trying to move slowly and not spook the fish. I knelt down and realized I had limited backcast room. Line on the water, shooting line stretched, scandi cast, anchor touch down, flip forward, right on, nice cast, ok mend, ok wait, wait, wait, wait, oh good drift, good drift, my heart is in my stomach, my eye's unblinking, I see nothing but that fly and that fish, closer, closer, little mend, ok great, closer, on top, come on!!!! past, down stream, shit nothing... Ok try again, maybe to the cruiser, there he is throw, nice cast, here he comes, oh boy, up, nope... Ok no problem, try again, cast nothing, cast to that other fish, that 8 incher will eat right? Nope.

Why am I fishing for a thirty plus inch fish anyway? I'm using a five weight with super light line, if it decided to move ten feet it'd get under that bridge into the white water and snap me off for sure. Why am I even trying with this girl? I don't even no if I can handle being in a relationship at all, so deep is the scar from the last, I don't know if I can fall in love again, I don't even know this person, chances are slim we will fall in love, even slimmer that we will spend years together. So why do I cast? Why cast at a fish you have no chance of landing? I think the great one put it best when he said "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take," and while hockey has very little to do with women or fish this is the case. If you don't make the cast you will never hook that fish, and you will never know if you will touch her.

Time to switch it up, 5x is my smallest tippet, ok can't go smaller, lets see what do I have. I thumb my box open and look. My mind goes back to the last time I was faced with a rising fish in a weird place, "green drake" I think. Now I have no clue if the Metolious has a green drake hatch, but I would bet that trout remember these giant bugs, and in a lot of situations if you throw something that they remember to be good food you will do well. I tie on that battered green wulf that caught the fish on the Branch and the fish on the Kenai. The 16 inch rainbow tips up as if to eat.

So this particular woman, is a lot like that 16 inch rainbow, from the time I've spent with her, I'd love to date her, she seems like my type. She is very cute, very pretty, not a super model but nowhere near the other extreme. A sixteen inch rainbow is a great trout, I'm happy catching one any day of the week, but they aren't the most beautiful fish in the world (I'd say its a tie between the golden trout and those grayling in the upper chena), but rainbows aren't the ugliest, in fact they are down right pretty fish. A sixteen inch fish is just what I want to catch some days, will usually rise to a dry fly, and fight admirably, but isn't the trophy, isn't the once in a life time fish that haunts you for years if you lose her, and gives you the shakes for the rest of your life if you get a picture holding her. Now I don't want to give the impression I'm reducing women to fish, the nice thing about people, and why they intrigue me, and why I think love is worth it is that you can be with them for a long time, and you can watch them become that perfect thing, the once in a lifetime person, I mean this person could become that 30 inch dry fly eating bull that still gives me the shakes when I close my eyes. The risk and fear, and gratification, and sheer joy of being in love, and the sheer sorrow of heartbreak cannot be replicated in a trout stream, no matter how hard you work to slot yourself into a canyon, no matter what you give up to be a trout bum.

The fish swims closer, its mouth opens, my fly.... goes nowhere, the trout's mouth closes. It swims off.
WOW! this makes me wet
 

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Donny, you're out of your element...
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4,500 Posts
AK- Don't take these guys criticism too hard. You throw fiction up, people shoot it down, happens to anyone who writes.Your fiction might be better if you added a little literal firepower. Bust the story in parts and make the girl character as an independent voice and narrator. Then think it through from her point of view. What is it about this guy that is unattractive, what does he bring to the table? Arm her. With maybe a sniper rifle or a semi-automatic or a rocket launcher. And have her in the trees along the Metolius, just waiting to blow the obsessed, depressed dude away. Maybe she blows trout-bums away because they are cocky, self-absorbed, vaguely alcoholic loners. Maybe she has daddy issues cos her papa was like that. Can't go wrong with daddy issues, works on so many levels. Who knows. Give her a badass motive and let her go to town with some wisecracks and firepower then have some fun with it, light up the sky in an orgy of explosions, a carnage-filled fest of destroyed fish, men, fishing rigs etc...oh and one last thing, make her hot, make her the super model, cartoon it up a notch, escapism is the name of the game...
 

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Ignored Member
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12,111 Posts
I always liked the line " I would drink a gallon of your piss just to see it come out." when it comes to AK girls, but your mileage may vary with this one.

What the hell does fishing have to do with women anyway? Jezzus, leave the frickin' women at home raisin' kids and cooking. They don't belong on a fishing trip. You shouldn't even be thinking about them while fishin'. And if you need laid that bad, there are hookers for that. You can get a date with them on the internets and they don't care what you look like or about the stupid shit you posted up.
 

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Banned
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5,200 Posts
I always liked the line " I would drink a gallon of your piss just to see it come out." when it comes to AK girls, but your mileage may vary with this one.

What the hell does fishing have to do with women anyway? Jezzus, leave the frickin' women at home raisin' kids and cooking. They don't belong on a fishing trip. You shouldn't even be thinking about them while fishin'. And if you need laid that bad, there are hookers for that. You can get a date with them on the internets and they don't care what you look like or about the stupid shit you posted up.
wow........

fuck it ak, it could have been worse, u could have myspaced it......

seriously though, these old fucks don't really understand. i assume u have met this girl before and facebook was just an easy way to get in contact? please tell me you have met her before....
 
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