noticed that it’s been a long time since I’ve had any input to this little blog
space. The reason is that I just didn’t have anything worthy of
reporting, at least in the angling department.
I was busy with a little
remodeling for starters. What I have discovered is that its one of
those things that you start and there is no end to it. It’s fun, it’s a
pain, it’s frustrating and it’s satisfying. That took up a
good portion of the summer (and upcoming fall, winter…spring). It also
took up a good portion of my fishing time.
The other thing that robbed me of my precious river time was
injuries. I was having a good day on the river in early July when I
decided to check out some new water. I didn’t have my wading stick
with me that day. Big mistake…no, HUGE mistake. (Consider a wading staff as mandatory safety
gear!) The algae was blooming in full
force, turning the limestone slabs and rocks as slick as puppy poo.
I’m a nervous wader at best but instead of moving down river a few miles to
find better footing, I opted to take a chance. D’uh!! I was making my way back
when my feet shot out from under me and I came crashing down hard on some rocks
in the shallows. It’s funny how you have all this time during a split
second fall to make several critical decisions before the final touch
down. I was thinking (out loud) "OH S**T!"
and at the same time I was thinking about the rod in my hand. MY
ROD!!! My first custom hand built rod. The one I spent hours
building. The rod with the irreplaceable blank. The rod that had no
warranty against Sasquatches stepping on it. OH NO!! So
with that in my brain, I thought, "SAVE THE ROD!!" without thinking
about myself. I saved the rod. The fall hurt like hell
but I got up, brushed the muck and slime off and continued on my way…a lot
slower. This is one big disadvantage of fishing alone. It’s not recommended but solitude is grand,
isn’t it? If you or I was really hurt, there’s no one around to get
you out of trouble. These are things you should think about before taking
that long stroll into parts of the river that fish are and people aren’t.
Anyway, I really didn’t notice that I was any more
sore than I usually am after a tumble and a day on the river. I’m getting
older. I expect a certain level of pain as validation that I’m still
breathing. I continued to fish until a big thunderstorm chased me
out of the water. Waving a graphite rod when the sky is lighting
up is just asking to be added to the Darwin Awards List.
Over the course of a week, I noticed that my neck, shoulder and chest were
hurting and the muscles were cramping up.
It was cutting into the painting
and nail pounding in a big way. It got worse each day until one day I was
more or less rolling on the couch imitating the sounds of a woman in
childbirth. My hands wondered up
to my clavicle where is joins the sternum and I noticed to my horror that it
was not any were close to where it was suppose to be. WTF?! Time to see
the doc. It turns out that the fall a couple of weeks earlier,
separated my clavicle from the sternum, a dislocated joint of sorts.
It’s a waiting game to see if it will heal…with a promise that it will probably
never be the same…IF it does heal.
Twelve weeks later, I can say it’s felling better now, but it’s still not where
it’s suppose to be. I can cast my fly rod, so I can live with
that. A few weeks after the doc visit, I was packing up to go
fishing for a couple of days. I could cast a little at this point and as
long as I didn’t fall, it would be OK. I told myself. I know…I’m asking
for it. I had just put the last of the gear into the SUV when the
elderly neighbor across the road came over. She asked if I was afraid of
frogs. If you know me, you know that is a silly question….and it
I told her, "no" so she wanted to know if I would come over and
rescue a frog from her window well. "No problem!" I said.
It’s a deep well, lined with concrete. I put on my
"cheaters" (magnifiers) before descending to aid in my finding the
frog at close range. DUMB MISTAKE. I do that a lot!! So I miss
judged my next step and fell in the hole….at the same time, thinking about
that clavicle. OH NO! … Must…save…
the clavicle!! I turned and took the full force of the fall on
the concrete edge, across my back, kidney level. Talk about
HURT!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY……. I knew I just scared the hell out of the
neighbor. I KNOW I scared the hell out
of myself!! So I covered up my pain and pretended to get
on with the frog hunt. All I could see was a black void filled with
stars as beads of sweat started to break out all over my body. If there
was a frog down there, he found his own way out before I hit the
dirt. The neighbor was sure the frog had to be there. I
asked her to check my backside, just to make sure it wasn’t wallpapered to my
butt. It wasn’t. WHEW! That
would not have been a pretty scene. So I
managed to get myself back to my house trying to look uninjured for her
sake. When I got inside, I told my other half I needed a ride to the
ER. NOW! Hours later,
high on morphine and well armed with “perks” I was sent home with nothing
broken but badly bruised, scraped and a promise that I would not be wanting to go
anywhere for a few weeks. That was my
summer. It’s now nearing the end of September and
I can move, cast my rod and fish.
It’s now raining cats and dogs.
The rivers are blown. The trout
season ends in ten days. Talk about bad
"There’s more B.S. in fly fishing than there is in a Kansas feedlot." Lefty Kreh