Saturday, April 2, 2011

Driving on the other side ( PART 13 )

The next morning it was wet, it had rained most of the night, Billy knew that fishing would be quite different without the ability to see the trout. He laid in his soggy, dank, extra long mummy sleeping bag and thought of a plan of action, for this being his last day fishing. The tent had a distinct odor, Billy had noticed, as he listened to the constant sound of rain pelting the protective Fly, and dripped off forming a small lake around the perimeter of his dwelling. If all went according to plan, later that day, or maybe the following morning Tom would be back in the yellow Mini to retrieve Billy back to reality. The thought of putting on waders was one of the reasons Bender was reluctant to get going that morning. The other reason was that Billy was not that keen on nymph fishing in the rain all day. Maybe, streamer fishing would be fun, Billy thought, then it hit him, maybe I should just take the day off, read a book, relax, I will be doing enough fishing for the next 3 ½ weeks.
Bender pulled a fresh Breburn apple from the inside of his purple and royal blue backpack that had a small logo that read Kelty on the front. As Billy enjoyed the sweet, firm flesh of his apple he noticed a humming sound, it was a sound far away, but seemed to be gaining strength. Bender unzipped the dank tent, to be taken aback by the freshness of the rain soaked air, much to his surprise it was inviting him out to enjoy his surroundings. Naked, Billy exited his warm abode to be drenched by the ever pounding rain. At first it felt cold, but it was a summer rain, a gentle, warmish, but an ever soaking deluge, Bender needed a bath, this was perfect. He walked to the creeks edge, only to find that the creek had turned a bit off color, brownish, no more of the gin clearness it was prior. As Bender turned back toward the tent, he could see a small yellow dot moving in a zig zag motion towards him. It was Tom in the Mini; he would be there in ten minutes or so. 
On his return to the tent Billy noticed the field was alive with new mushrooms. Puffballs and Meadow mushrooms to be exact, all in different button stages, just ready to be harvested.  It always amazed Bender just how quickly the puffballs grew to such a size, one time seeing new puffballs the size of melons, firm, and pink in the middle, that grew that size within hours.
Tom pulled up to the spot where the tent was, Billy quickly disassembled and packed so Tom would not have to wait. Tom rolled down the window to say “just throw it all in the back wet, we can dry it off inside my garage, it will be fine”. Once inside , Tom explained that with this summer storm , the creek will be off –color for a couple of days, “ I thought I might as well come and retrieve you since the fishing will be off and it will rain constant for the next two to three days, not a lot to do up here when it’s raining”. Bender said, “Nice to see you Tom, thanks for coming early, it was a good plan”.
And, so the conversation went between two Americans, bouncing down the side of rail road tracts in a foreign car, in a far away land, returning from a place on earth that not many others had visited. A special place with huge trout, in an incredible setting that one only dreams about visiting. Bender felt very fortunate to have experienced such a Valley, such a Creek, such a special place on earth. After telling Tom fishing stories for thirty minutes straight, Billy sat quiet and thought, how could this have been better? Then, he remembered Ann Hunter, and fantasized just how much better that wonderful experience might have been. Bender knew he would need to start moving south the following day, he thought maybe he should call her, it had been a week since he’d last spoken with her. Yes, he thought, I’ll call her tonight, I want to hear her voice, but, what Bender could not forget, were those piercing emerald green eyes.

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