Saturday, February 12, 2011
Saturday afternoon Suicide
After a morning of doing battle with the mountain of roof snow on the walk I regrouped in the cabin with a coffee. The days options were now wide open. I contemplated taking the sled out for a ride but the river was calling so I went to the garage and gathered up my gear. The inside bend of Suicide was beckoning. The last time I had fished there was in the spring with Norland and Arn and we had a pretty good day. This coupled with a local tip that there had been a few fish taken there recently had my interest peaked. The only thing that lay between me and my destination was a mile hike and a bush under two feet of snow.
Anyone that has waded the inside of Suicide knows the hike through the scrub brush can only be described as a son of a bitch. The under and over growth takes a toll on ones patience and truly tests ones determination. Now throw two feet of snow on the ground and its a deadly combination that almost makes travel inhumanly possible. The hike back to the scrub is fairly uneventful as I follow a fresh set of tracks.
Upon reaching the scrub I see a single set of fresh tracks meandering through the tangled mess. I decide to take the blazon trail and use it to my advantage. The hike back through the scrub was worse than I had remembered and was taking twice as long. The vision of hooking a giant fresh chromer was quickly loosing it's appeal and at more than one time I considered doubling back. After multiple mental checks and self reassurances I cleared the scrub and came upon an opening with the far bank of Suicide in my sights. I could not have been happier and stopped for a breather. As I scanned the surrounding area I noticed visible signs of a commotion in the snow.
As I approached the site closer it was apparent that a rodent had been plowing along the surface of the snow and was swept up by a small raptor. The wing feathers and tail feather of the raptor were evident in the snow and the trail from the rodent abruptly ended at the feather markings. I gathered up my remaining energy and continued on through the snow towards the river.
As I approached the top of the bank the river came into sight and as I slid down the slope a burst of energy ran through my body. For the next hour or so I meticulously picked away at the inside bend to no avail. The river level is down but the water still looked good. Determined I continued upriver towards the top of the bend until I had exhausted every piece of fishable water. Part way through the bend I had decided I would not be taking the same route back so I struggled up the steep embankment and began to plow through the now waist deep snow and scrub. With no trail to follow the going was very tough. What would take seconds seemed like hours and my legs were burning as I fought the thick underbrush and snow. Part way through the brush I decided to slip down into the river for a breather and fish a very sexy piece of water.
It wasn't long and I was into a nice 14" resident Rainbow. It was not the giant chrome hen that I had been working so hard for but nonetheless was a very pretty representation of what this river has to offer. By now the light was showing signs of failing and I amped it up a bit and made my way up and out of the scrub. The remainder of the hike out was fairly uneventful in comparison to the days earlier travels.
As I made the giant climb up the snow laden stairway I recalled the days events and remembered the cold beer and hot crock pot of chili awaiting me back at the cabin. I was also conscious of the fact that I didn't have to make a three and a half hour drive to get home. Cabin life has its advantages.