Have you ever done something at a birthday party that you regretted the next morning? How about
There’s an old saying that comes from The Snakepit - “What happens at The Snakepit appears on YouTube the next day.” That being said I have no intention of sharing the one hundred or so additional photos of the evening’s antics on the Westy Blog. After being sincerely welcomed into the local group, it just doesn’t seem right. I will however be conducting private viewings for those interested.
I slept in on the morning after the festivities (see wig picture), and set off well after lunch time for the drive over the Top of the World Highway to Tok, Alaska. My reason for lingering in Dawson City, besides a hankering for a birthday steak, was to let the rain pass. From what I hear the drive over the TOTWH is spectacular on a clear day. I didn’t have a clear day. What was spectacular though, was surviving the mud and gravel road and numerous frost heaves that will literally lift your front wheels off the ground. That is if you’re going way too fast. Or as fast as Stella can go, which is pretty fast. Either way rubber left the road. It was still a beautiful drive, though. It cleared up during the last 50 miles and I eventually rolled into the Tok RV Park for a hot shower, laundry (non-hippie method), water and electric for Stella, along with a car wash, and free Wi-Fi. All for $25. What a deal!
6/8 & 6/9 - Arctic Grayling Slaughter Reported at Tangle Lakes…
Fish count for June 8, 2009: Arctic Grayling (1), Clearwater River
Fish count for June 9, 2009: Arctic Grayling (14), Tangle Lake
Yes, it’s true! The first official Arctic Grayling was coaxed to the surface with a beautifully presented light gray mayfly imitation. It took standing waist deep in a 32 F crystal clear river until after 10 PM, but I am not complaining. It was magical. No pictures though. It was all I could do to keep myself dry, let alone my camera. I waded earlier in the evening to a gravel bar across the river. Uneventful. The return trip to my campsite? Eventful. I didn’t back track the exact same route and stepped into a hole. A deep hole. My waders took on about 2 gallons of ice cold water down each leg as I scrambled for footing. Fortunately the current bounced me off a conveniently placed boulder and I ended up getting my footing. I was frozen to the core but happy to have landed grayling number one.
Even with my high level of "proficiency" as a fly fisherman, I owe a lot of the credit to Jim in the adjoining campsite. I was pouring over my hundreds of flies realizing I didn’t have the one the grayling wanted. And with water as clear as this river you better be choosing carefully. Otherwise you’ll have nothing to show for the effort but a sore arm and waders full of cold water. Jim came sauntering through my campsite (I thought he was heading to the bathroom), and banged on my door. He must have seen my fly gear and asked how I did. I explained

Now on to Tangle Lakes. When I told Jim which way I was headed, he said he had just come from there. He told me of a turnoff that would take me 20 miles to an amazing spot he and his son fished a couple of days before. With arms waving enthusiastically he said, “If you want grayling, go to where the lake empties into a small river. They’re stacked up right at that point!” Generous Jim, who also gave me a hand drawn map that would have blown Lenora’s away, knows a lot about fly fishing. And he was absolutely right. I ate lunch at the edge of the lake and studied the water. After 20 minutes I knew where every single grayling was feeding. I tied on another of Jim’s recommendations and proceeded to slaughter grayling. It sounds worse than it is. I have a zero limit policy, so the barbless hook was gently removed from each of their mouths and they were set free. Too beautiful to eat.
The drive to see Sarah Palin in Wasilla...
The

I am pretty darn sure that I once dated a girl who could be the spitting image of that "beautiful" redhead in the picture, beard and all. Of course, her beauty not withstanding, she didn't have much of a personality. Again, love those pictures! Sounds like the arctic grayling slaughter was a riparian version of Custer's Last Stand; Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse took no prisoners either. Brian worked on a salmon fishing boat in Cook's Inlet that operated out a town with a Russian name near Homer. He also worked at the market and hotel in Haines; you could say hello for him at the market I betcha (sorry Sarah P.) My sister Maureen, now deceased, worked at Pt. Barrow (oil) and Valdez (taxi). Enjoy the moment! Lokedog
ReplyDeleteDying laughing here Pete! Love the new look! Glad you enjoyed your 49th birthday...I'm not far behind you on that one. Stay safe and keep posting to your blog...we're all loving it!
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