05-07-2009, 07:05 AM
lmao![laugh] That's funny RB1! I share the same opinion.
There's a real killer story that goes along with that. As long as I been going to Riggins, I've been camping (and fishing) at the Bluff Hole - except last year of course.
Every year I would set up my tent down @ the lower part of the campground - just where the trees start - and leave it there for the season. Straight across the river there is a tremendous rock pile that lots of folks have always liked to hike up into from the swinging bridge and fish there.
One of them I have always affectionately referred to as Flypole - he always wore the same really sexy flypole dude hat. Durring mid-day I would retire to my tent to take a nap, and recover from driving 7.5 hours all night. More often then not, when I woke up, I would sit up from the comfort of my now flat air mattress (thanks to the billions of goat head thorns in there) and sure enough. . . there's flypole out there, just above the rockpile, workin' up a sweat like Michael Jordan in the 4th quarter, just trying to fish a flypole to all these Chinook that are out there in the river.
He seemed to be using as much lead as I use to drift fish, and quarters are super tight over there, so he was wading dang near up to his knees and one more step and he would be over his head in a river that has no reservations about killing a man. As near as I could tell it seemed to be some kind of hybrid between drift fishing and bobber fishing, and by heck, what better way to do it than with a flypole.
After I had observed him for a minute or two I usually began to start talking some crap to my wife about why is he working so hard to fish basically the same way everybody else was doing it. No sooner than I had opened up my mouth, than sure enough, one of those mean ole Chinooks hauls off and bites his lure!
This was like deja vu! It happened countless times, on multiple trips and years I might add! Several of them tore him up real bad, but just as many times, he would stumble up and down the bank, hanging on for dear life long enough and finally get the fish landed.
I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but ole Flypole sure could hook those Chinook there at that spot, and by golly he could land a few of em too!
And if anybody wants to disqualify me from being a reliable witness since I had been driving all night, I'm certainly OK with that! [:p]
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There's a real killer story that goes along with that. As long as I been going to Riggins, I've been camping (and fishing) at the Bluff Hole - except last year of course.
Every year I would set up my tent down @ the lower part of the campground - just where the trees start - and leave it there for the season. Straight across the river there is a tremendous rock pile that lots of folks have always liked to hike up into from the swinging bridge and fish there.
One of them I have always affectionately referred to as Flypole - he always wore the same really sexy flypole dude hat. Durring mid-day I would retire to my tent to take a nap, and recover from driving 7.5 hours all night. More often then not, when I woke up, I would sit up from the comfort of my now flat air mattress (thanks to the billions of goat head thorns in there) and sure enough. . . there's flypole out there, just above the rockpile, workin' up a sweat like Michael Jordan in the 4th quarter, just trying to fish a flypole to all these Chinook that are out there in the river.
He seemed to be using as much lead as I use to drift fish, and quarters are super tight over there, so he was wading dang near up to his knees and one more step and he would be over his head in a river that has no reservations about killing a man. As near as I could tell it seemed to be some kind of hybrid between drift fishing and bobber fishing, and by heck, what better way to do it than with a flypole.
After I had observed him for a minute or two I usually began to start talking some crap to my wife about why is he working so hard to fish basically the same way everybody else was doing it. No sooner than I had opened up my mouth, than sure enough, one of those mean ole Chinooks hauls off and bites his lure!
This was like deja vu! It happened countless times, on multiple trips and years I might add! Several of them tore him up real bad, but just as many times, he would stumble up and down the bank, hanging on for dear life long enough and finally get the fish landed.
I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but ole Flypole sure could hook those Chinook there at that spot, and by golly he could land a few of em too!
And if anybody wants to disqualify me from being a reliable witness since I had been driving all night, I'm certainly OK with that! [:p]
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