Now this really happened!
I went fishing today with three other men, anticipating a wonderful day of catching steelhead on the Two Heart River in the Upper Peninsula's beautiful countryside. The pan was to fish from upstream from the river mouth, where it empties into Lake Superior, to the big lake.
I gassed up the car on Saturday, and tied a four new flies for the trip, two Vladi Condom Worms, and two of a fly I can't remember the name of. I sorted both my dry fly and nymph fly box, and my streamer fly box, fixed the ends of two fishing poles, gathered and organized my creels, fishing line, sinkers, hooks, etc., and was ready to go for this morning.
As planned I picked up my fishing partners at 5 a.m. and we reached our destination right on time at 7:15 a.m. We got our our poles, bait, flies, and tackle, put the creel straps in place, and I donned my new hip waders. It was time to hit the water.
We walked down a very steep embankment to the stream, and found good water under the substantial bridge. We tried out luck there, but got no bites. So I decided to wade out into the river, not knowing how deep it was. I soon realized that it was going to be too deep and left the water before swamping my waders. I went downstream a ways and found that the water was just over knee deep, but very swift.
Now I don't know how familiar you are with the Two Heart, or the Taquamenon Rivers, and their drainage system, but the waters that feed them flow through cedar swamps where they pick up tannins that stain the water root beer color. When it gets about a foot and a half deep, it is too dark to see through the water.
The river current was so swift that it collapsed the sides of my wader boots to the point that the pressure caused mild pain. But I was fishing!
I had to inch my way through the water because of the underwater holes, and immovable stoney obstructions. But I was doing ok, or so I though. I carefully slid my right foot forward, and found a depression in the granite stream-bed. But the footing was good. I began to slide my left foot forward, and hit a slippery spot. I was now off ballance with a swift current trying to knock me over it two foot deep water. It succeeded. I pitched forward as my left foot came to an abrupt, and unexpected chunk of granite that rose from the bedrock. I did the most perfect front fall (learned so many years ago in Judo classes) and so was unhurt when I landed on the solid stone stream bed. But my new waders were filled with icy cold water, and I was wet from my shoulders to my toes.
I got out of the stream and joined my more terrestrial companions, emptied my waders, put them back on, and continued fishing. None of us got even a bite. So we went to a local fishing guide who is a member of our church, and asked where we might catch some fish. He told us to forget about the river, and go straight to its mouth. He said that the mouth was where the action was. By time we got there, it was ten a.m., and the fish were done for the day. We tried for several hours, but were skunked in the end.
There were three fishermen who had began fishing the mouth at 7:30 a.m., who each had about 5 nice steelhead. Ahh well.
We then went to the lake shore and decided to surf-cast. That was more successful. I caught a white sperm whale, I think he was called Moby Dick. let me tell you, that was quite a fight he put up. But I hauled him in on 4 lb. test. The other three, well they each caught something different. Jim got a downed 747 airliner, while Sam hooked into a 32 foot lamprey eel. We thought he'd gotten one of the sand worms from the Dune series of science fiction books. And Fred, well he pulled in a e inch skulpin that put up such a fight, it broke his salmon pole.
It's all true. Just ask Paul Bunyan. We met him on the beach cooking up a yak that he'd gotten with his mighty axe.
Seeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North