Sorry about the lack of photos on this post, but there was nothing to take pictures of - seriously.
Saturday we took the new john boat, our spin rods, our concubine and a shit load of beer down to super secret spot on the Mo. We spent about an hour just trying to figure out how to tilt the new 9.9 Merc up so that we didn't drag Ed's new baby across the rocks as we launched the SS Ganzer. I won't go into all that this involved, but thankfully we found the correct handle before the Merc was dismantled. Good thing Ed had the foresight to purchase some oars. . . I spent more time rowing than the Merc actually ran. Oh - the Merc runs just fine, great even, until it hits rocks in the bottom of that shallow ass river. The best was the redneck/hippies who got a front row seat to our hijinks. Their commentary was priceless. One for the Mo, zero for team Coleman. Does anybody know how much props cost?
Sunday - driftboat hopper fever. We floated from Canyon Access to Pelican Point. The scenery was shockingly beautiful and the number of boats on that stretch was minimal. . . except for team Great Falls methheads in their Coleman rafts catching 24" rainbows on a spinner rods (and GASP, keeping them.) We kept an eye on them while we caught algae fish worthy of the Guinness book of world records. We could hear the hoppers, there was even some sightings, but there was no fish, no risers, no nothing. I exaggerate - slightly, we had two hits, but didn't land them. It couldn't be our fishing skills. . . no. . . it was the heat, the sunny day, the water, the fact that those damn Mo fishies are so f-ing smart. It's not fair! I wanted Fat Daddy Missouri Brown so bad, I could smell him. I MUST find solice in the fact that I didn't loose any flies and our concubine took her first lesson in rowing. That makes the score 2 for the Mo and zero for team Coleman.
That is the thing with the Missouri, no matter how many days I get skunked or catch only uncle whitey, I crave more. I am in an abusive relationship with this river, she kicks my ass and I can't wait to come back for more. There is this amazing warm fuzzy feeling that washes over me when I step into the Trout Shop in Craig - I know that I am home.
Monday we didn't even bother fishing, we spent the morning reading and drinking coffee on the deck of the cabin overlooking that cold hard bi*ch. She could take no more from me that day.
"Damn darlin' you are as good looking as you are mean. See you soon."
I thought that everyone out there ought to see what really went on after the storm. A lot of baitfish that got blown in to downtown so the fishing was really good!!!
