West '05 Trip - Day 5

Posted: 2006-01-24
By: Randy Cochran

I tossed and turned all night in anticipation of what was most surely to be a great day of pontoon fishing on Duck Lake. Well, I should say that I couldn't rest due to the horrible quality of my air mattress, which went flat in under 2 hours. Oh well. C'est la vie. Win some, lose some, the rest get rained out.

Despite my best efforts, I could not for the life of me figure out how my 'El Cheapo' brand foot pump could be used to sufficiently air up my pontoon bladders. I was able to get them filled a bit with the electric pump, but then experienced great futility when switching over to finish the job with the manual doohickey.

At this point I had run the electric pump for several minutes. I could imagine - or maybe actually felt - the incredibly hot stare of angry vacationers in nearby RVs as I interrupted their slumber. This led to a sense of urgency on my part, which consequently resulted in the dumbest thing I have ever been witness to. And sadly, I was the sole participant.

After debating with myself for a few moments, it was decided (I'm not sure by who; me, myself or that other wanker?) that I would just forget about the pontoon boat and fish from shore for a bit. I got into my car to back up and load my boat stuff. Put the car in reverse. Gave it a little gas. Felt some resistance, so I gave it a little more gas. Thought I was backing up over rocks. Turned out that I had backed up over my pontoon bladders.

Amazingly, they did not pop. Big ups to the peeps at Outcast. Their junk is pretty damn good; at least good enough to withstand idiotic boob behavior.

I inspected the scene and my equipment. No damage, other than a few scrapes on the outside covers. Even so, I was now thoroughly disgusted with myself and needed a change of scenery. I had to put my stupidity behind me.

And so it was that I journeyed on to Glacier National Park. The plan was to fish areas in and near Glacier. The only problem with this plan was that the place was extremely crowded. All parking lots were essentially full, especially in the areas that I would've been hiking from to fish. I drove on through toward McDonald Creek at its outlet from Lake McDonald.

Nothing much to speak of, save for a few small cutts here or there... but I didn't catch them. This is not to say that there weren't fish to be had or opportunities to find them up or downstream. Rather, I only half-assed it, still unsure about my IQ level as compared to that of the fish I was after. The pontoon thing really got to me.

The funk eventually lifted once I made Columbia Falls and my hotel room. Man, hotel night! It was exciting then, but only became more exciting as the trip lengthened. Once every week I got a hotel room to clean up, eat decent and zone out in front of a TV on a comfortable bed. This was the first of many such nights.

Night hadn't actually fallen yet, and I was determined to break completely free of the day's aggravations, so I headed to a fly shop to get the 411 on the nearby Flathead River. A lengthy chat ensued. I can't remember the name of the clerk. What I can remember though is that it was one of the nicest times in a fly shop in recent memory. I purchased a Baker's Dozen of flies - big, crazy caddis imitations - and was off to the South Fork of the Flathead River.

Decent success was had on those nasty dries, with mostly small cutts and rainbows coming to net. None were very large, but then again I wasn't destroying my gear, dealing with crowds or exhausting my patience, so I got what I went for: a nice time on the river, unwinding from earlier events.

Mostly that's what I'm fishing for anyway. Not compliments, not fame, not fortune. Perhaps not even fish. I'm fishing to regain a piece of me that I've lost. A piece that's sorely missed, and never really too easy to find, save for those wondrous moments when I can get lost among the riffles and runs.

Luckily, this was only day 5 of many more to come. Might I yet become whole? I suppose you'll just have to keep reading to find out...