FISHING BRIDGE

 

Those many years ago, when I was just a little nipper, about nine years old, our dad had taken my older brother Bob and me on a camping/fishing vacation up to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming.  Dad would find us a suitable camp ground and then busy himself with putting up the tent.  Dad was a master camper and consequently I don’t ever remember him asking us boys to help set up the camp; somehow it would just miraculously appear.

Once the camp was all set up, we would immediately go out to go fishing.  Dad was an avid fly-fisherman, but before he went out for himself he would find us a good fishing hole and then he would plop Bob and I down near the bank, give us some bait for our hooks, and then we would get a short fishing lesson; “Now just toss your line in by that deep hole over there and let the bait drift down river for a while.  Why, you’ll have yourself a fish in no time”, and then he would leave us to go out and do his number one passion, fly-fishing.

Well, on this particular trip, he took us over to Yellowstone’s famous Fishing Bridge.  I say that because today we passed over that very same Fishing Bridge as we were heading for our camp site for the night.  Today though, there was not even one person fishing from the bridge.  In fact there was a sign that said “No fishing”.  I hope this is just a temporary thing; it seems a shame to name a bridge “Fishing Bridge” if you don’t allow anyone to fish from it.

 

As usual, dad took Bob and I to what he thought was the best place available on the bridge where his boys could catch a fish.  I don’t know how he decided where that spot was, since both sides on the entire length of the bridge were packed shoulder to shoulder with fishermen; grizzled old men who had been fishing all their lives, their wives who needed someone else to bait their hooks, and their kids who would get their hooks tangled up in your clothes more often than not.

After setting us down with our poles and bait, he gave us the same instructions, “Now just toss your line in there by that deep hole over there and let the bait drift down river for a while.  Why, you’ll have yourself a fish in no time”, after which he would go off and find himself a prime fly-fishing spot.

As we waited there, intent on detecting any kind of action that would indicate that there was a hungry fish sampling that tasty Salmon egg on our hooks, we listened to the other fishermen telling of how no one had even gotten a bite all day, let alone actually caught a fish. We were not to be deterred though, dad had selected this spot for us and we were going to catch ourselves a fish.

We had been there about fifteen minutes; casting our baited hooks out into the current just as dad had told us to do, then letting the line drift down stream.  As I was standing there dreaming about “the big one”, I felt an almost indiscernible tug on my line.  “I’ve got one” I yelled, immediately setting the hook and wildly starting to reel him in, all in contrast to what dad had taught us; “Let the fish savor the hook, give him a few nibbles and then one clean jerk to set the hook.  Then slowly reel him in”.  No, this was my fish and I was going to show all the rest of the fishermen on that bridge that my dad knew how to catch fish. 

That fish was literally skipping across the top of the water as I reeled him in.   “A fish”, I thought, “I’ve got myself a fish”.  As the fish was being tugged across the top of the water towards the bridge, everyone around was giving me their expert advice.  I didn’t need their advice; after all, I’m the one who caught the fish.  I finally got him up to the bridge and started to pull him up the twelve feet between the water and the top of the bridge.  He was a beauty; a flashing, twisting Rainbow, about ten inches long.  What a catch.

I had him up about four feet out of the water, soaking in every cheer and congratulation that was offered, when all of the sudden he was no longer there. He had flipped off the hook.  A collective “Oooh” arose from the entire group of fisherman on the bridge.  In that one instant, all of the instructions my dad had ever given me on how to land a fish were now racing through my mind.

That’s about all I remember about that trip; the fact that I was the only one to catch a fish off of Fishing Bridge that day.  Me, just a little kid.

If I had landed the fish that day, it probably would probably have been lost with all the other memories I have of all the other fish I have caught over the years; but that was the fish that I caught from the Fishing Bridge, the fish that no one else was able to catch that day. 

So what if he got away?  Today’s fishermen follow the catch and release rule; you catch the fish for the sport of it;  after you have landed the fish, then you let him go to swim again for another day.  I guess I was just a fisherman ahead of my time.

2012 Puget Pullers 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 3

Day 3

We stay two nights at Jim & Mary’s RV Park, so today we will be out and about in Missoula.  Our first destination will be the Smokejumper Visitor Center in Missoula.  With all of the forest fires in progress this summer, the place was a hubbub of activity.  As we pulled into the Visitors Center there were several jumpers outside making a final check of their gear prior to taking off in the airplane to fight a fire.  Smokejumpers are called to fight those fires that are not accessible by road or foot.  They are used in remote areas where air is the only viable means of access. 

We went on a tour of the facilities with a firefighter named Burks; very personable, very knowledgeable, and willing to share it all with us.  He had been involved in some phase of firefighting for over ten years.  He went over some of the requirements with us and we found that there is a great amount of physical stamina involved.  It is little wonder that he had such a good physique.  One requirement was that you had to be able pass a 110 lb. pack test on flat terrain in 90 minutes; both the men and the women.

Our tour through the facilities included the parachute rooms where the chutes were tested and packed, and after use they were inspected for tears and repacked.  All of these maintenance activities were shared by all firefighters, so the level of proficiency of each individual had to be of high quality.

Besides the 110 lb. pack they may have to carry, there is also the 25-30 pounds of clothing, ropes and tree climbing equipment.  When you jump out of a plane at 1300 feet in the forest, chances are that you are going to be landing in a tree.  Consequently, all jumpers also have to be skilled in tree climbing; both to get down, and also to climb backup again to retrieve the parachute.

 

 

 

As  Burks was telling us about the different jobs and responsibilities of the jumpers, the crackling from the squawk box began to  run off the list of the next round of smokejumpers to be put on the ready f or the next jump; “Marshal, Banfil, Gilman. Burks,………” 

A grin of satisfaction and anxiety crept over Burks face.  “Well after this tour is finished I guess I should start packing”. 

2012 Puget Puller 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 2

Day 2

The first ones in our household to get up in the morning are the dogs, and today was no exception. Even though we were on vacation, they still got us up at 6:30 AM.  Actually they got me up at 3:45 AM by letting me know that they needed to go outside and use natures restroom.  Even though we arise early we were still the last of our group to leave for our next destination.  Our departure time was 10:00 AM, at least two hours after the rest of our group had gone.  There were two routs we could take to our next campground, Jim and Mary’s RV Park in Missoula, MT.  The scenic route was 253 miles while following I-90 was just 197 miles; we opted for the shorter and faster route, a no brainer.

Leaving Cour dAlene, the road follows the shores of Lake Cour dAlene for many miles. Nestled in between hills of white pine, the crystal blue waters made this part of the route made it feel as if this route was the scenic route.  There were miles and miles of heavily wooded lush green pine trees.

Many  years ago we had taken this route on a trip to Missoula and I have vivid recollections of passing through Wallace, ID,  Wallace was a silver mining town and at the time and we passed through the sky was grey with smoke from the smelting stacks.  I was looking for the dirty town I remembered from our earlier trip, but it never appeared.  Instead was a clean, picturesque town that oozed of the kind of inviting charm that makes you want to stop in and stay a while, which is exactly what we are going to do on our return route at the end of the trip.

We had to climb over a few mountain passes on this route, the 4^th of July Pass, and Lookout Pass.  The 4^th of July pass had no fireworks and Lookout Pass was too wooded to give us much of a panoramic view of the area.  Despite the disappointment the names gave us, it was a beautiful scenic drive over both passes, even with the additional elevation climb we had to make.   Well  they say that what goes up must come down. Wheeeee! 

As we started the descent of lookout Pass I noticed a sign alongside the road which read “White markers represent Highway fatalities”.  Excuse me for a while now while I pay attention to the road.

We pulled into the Jim and Mary RV Park and parked our rig right alongside the rest of our group. 
That is the benefit of making all reservations far in advance.  One more benefit was that as I entered into the office to pay for our stay, I noticed a sign on the door that said “Sorry Park Full”.



 Jim and Mary's was one of the nicest parks we have stayed in; a flower garden had been planted at every corner and there were  flower beds along with some kind of artwork displayed at most every RV site. 

The park had arranged for an Evening of Music with LeGrande Harvey and Rod Brod, a great guitar/banjo group.  They looked familiar and after talking with them for a while, I realized that we had seen them both perform at this very RV Park on a Lewis and Clark RV trip we had made with our RV group back in 2004. Their performance was great, and they played one of my favorites, which they played back on our 2004 trip, “Pocket Change”.

We had a great night’s sleep with the crisp Montana air keeping us snuggled up in our nice warm blankets.  

Goodnight for now, talk to you tomorrow.

2012 Puget Puller 2 Dakotas Long Trip - Day 1

Day 1

Let the travels begin.  Our Puget Pullers RV Club is heading off for the clubs “2 Dakotas’ Long Trip”  We will travel through the states of WA, MT, ND, SD, & WY and back home to WA again of course.  There will be several of the big rigs involved, so it looks like we are going to have a great time 

As we drove along I-90 out of Moses Lake, WA we could see an in-progress forest fire that had devoured all the vegetation off the face of the hill which we could see, as well as laid claim to at least 62 homes.    Despite the devastation, the resulting smoke filled the afternoon sky with a grayish haze that translated into a beautiful sunset, full of hues and pastels of red, orange and purple, offset by silver lined orange-grey clouds.  The rays of the sun had been diffused by the smoke into a pallet of soft dusty colors. 

Driving thru the wheat fields of eastern Washington in 99 deg. Heat I found that a couple of drops of doTerra’s “Citrus Bliss-Invigorating Blend” placed on a small sponge and then stuck into one of the air vents, made it quite bearable.  The sweet smell of citrus gave us the sense that we were off on Hawaiian holiday.  Go doTerra.

After pulling the big rig 335 miles from Gig Harbor, WA, to Post Falls ID, we pulled into the Coeur d’Alene RV Park where we met up with the rest of our traveling companions.   It looked as if every RV owner in the state had the same as we did, filling up the later part of August with an RV trip, as out of the 189 RV sites, we managed to snag the last available one.

The rest of the group had already arrived and the finger food pot luck that they were enjoying  was a welcome feast after a long day of Coke,  Snickers bars and Peanut M&M’s.

There is always something that goes wrong with someone’s rig on a trip like this.  I had the honor of claiming one such problem.  If it is a particularly hot day and I run the Chevy DuraMax diesel all day in a hot temperature of above 80 degrees, when I stop and turn off the engine, it won’t always start again.  I had taken it into the Chevy dealership in Federal Way WA, and they replaced the fuel filter and miraculously pronounced the problem solved.  Don’t you just love it when you pay $300 plus for a job that ends up as just slightly better than throwing some pixie dust at the problem and yelling “be healed you demon”.

 In the meantime I have found that if I prime the fuel system,  by pressing up and down on the fuel filter priming pump,  I can get the beast started; and it didn’t cost me a cent, nor an intensive class in diesel mechanics at the local trade school.  Well we shall be paying that dealership a visit again as soon as I return.