Dunked in the Raven Fork

It wasn’t going to end well. It was one of those situations where you just know what the outcome will be. Dave and I were fishing the trophy section of the Raven Fork. Rain, which was not predicted to start until the afternoon, had just started to fall.

Yesterday we had our first experience on this beautiful water where big, I mean really big, rainbow trout are the prize. It had been perfect; bluebird skies, mild temperature, clear water, relatively few fisherman and plenty of healthy rainbows. We were so impressed that we had begun planning our next trip before we had been on the water an hour.

Now I needed to position myself so that I could cast to the tail of a pool that I was sure held a monster fish. The problem was that I needed to cross the river below the pool so that I would not disturb my quarry. The water was flowing fast although it wasn’t particularly deep…in most places. Typical of boulder-strewn mountain streams there were holes in places where the rushing water forces its way between and around the largest boulders, scouring away the stream bed. I was working my way across just such a place. I could have retreated downstream to a less challenging crossing, but that would mean bushwhacking my way through the rhododendrons that lined the banks to come back up to the spot I wanted to fish.

There was a ledge in the near boulder, about a foot underwater, that I was sure, well almost sure, would provide a place for my foot; and I thought I could see a reasonably safe foothold for my next step. When wading in mountain streams you need to plan a few steps ahead. Once you commit to move, your body’s momentum and the force of the rushing water make it hard to pause and reconsider. You see how this is unfolding, don’t you.

The first step was fine and the second wasn’t too bad. The problem was, I didn’t know what the third step would be and the force of the water had me off balance. Sometimes you just have to succumb to the inevitable. I slipped into the hole behind the second boulder. It was a quick dunk; my head didn’t even go under. It would not have been a problem but for the fact that I was wearing chest waders and I was in forty-four degree water up to my shoulders! It is amazing how quickly water can flow over the top of a pair of waders, soak your shirt, squeeze past a tight wader belt, run down both legs and pool in a pair of wool socks. Ick!

There was nothing to do but stand up and keep going. Squish! With every step, squish! I reached my spot, made the cast and, wham! Got him! Life is good.
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