Grasshopper

Grasshopper

I opened up my old fishing Creel.

A creel wicker made in the 30s but one I had carried since I was a boy in
California.
Before I carried this creel it had belonged to my grandfather. I thought, if it
was good enough for a man like him, be proud to carry it, and carry it I did
for all of my trips into the Sierras and Rockies.

I unloaded the lunch I had packed inside. A can of sardines, some cheese to
cut, an apple and a bunch of saltine crackers.
I would drink from my canteen this day because I was a little afraid of River
water. I had no intention of suffering the stomach pains I once did from
drinking it.

The water running below me was crystal clear and another 100 feet or so
up the river is where I wanted to fish next.
I watched the big deep hole of water churn slowly around the shore edges
and thought, if any big Browns came upstream this morning they will stop
there to rest.

I was in no hurry; not another Man near me for miles save for my friend
Ron who had left camp that morning fishing downstream.
It was early in the afternoon and I would prefer to fish the hole later, near
sunset, but I had a long way to go if I expected to return to camp
before dark.

I would eat my lunch, fish this hole and head back.

I saw a small Rainbow roll on the surface and I thought, well at least
something is still feeding, maybe he and his friends will still be active when
I finish lunch.
I opened the sardines and cut some cheese. Fixing myself little sardine
sandwiches between the saltines had always been my favorite while fishing
alone. Finishing up with the apple I had a good feeling about that nice
stretch of water ahead.

I had been using red salmon eggs today and I opened the jar, still nearly
full, not that good a day for fishing red eggs I thought.
Then it happened, out of my hand went the jar of eggs, three bounces and
it was floating down river and lost. The only bait I had. I had not even taken
any spinners today.

Well, that just about finished off today and I wanted to fish the hole
before I left.

I started back down the trail and had walked about 1/4 of a mile and
then I saw it.
A small grasshopper had just landed in the middle of the trail ahead.
Then another further up the trail.
I found a piece of old dead wood and got as close as I could, then
swatted at this grasshopper, missing badly. The other that had landed
did not move so I crawled as close as possible and swatted at it. He
popped up in the air and landed on his back,
I had bait.
I carefully picked it up and put it in my Creel, turned and headed for
that beautiful water I wanted to fish so badly.
Baiting the hook I slowly crawled as close as I dared to the front of
the hole and dropped the Grasshopper in the current running into it.
I watched it float along the surface, bobbing up and down. Did it look
natural enough I thought?

Then the surface exploded, it was a big German Brown and he came
several feet out of the water with the Grasshopper clearly in view for a
moment. Then down he went and my rod tip bent toward the water, line
screaming out of my reel.
For a good 15 minutes I fought the old Brown finally getting him in
close to the rocky shoreline.
I just held my rod high in the air and watched him. Exhausted he just
slowly moved back and forth with the current.

He was a beautiful Fish. Possible 20 inches long and
5 to 6 lbs., a trophy.

I sat down on a rock and continued to watch him. Then I reached down,
took my line and bit through it, releasing him without touching his
beautiful body.

I got back to camp before dark and Ron my fishing buddy asked me
�Bobby, catch anything?�
I looked at Ron, smiled and said �not a darned one Ronny�,
�How did you do?�
Ron held up 5 nice Rainbow Trout that would become our dinner
that night as we talked about our next day's adventures around our
campfire.

Out here miles away from the nearest lights there seemed to be a
million stars and at this time of year one was falling every minute or so.
The sound of the running creek was the only sound if Ron and I were
silent for a moment and it nearly mesmerized both of us.

Bedtime was near.

How many men had sat exactly where we sat through the ages I
thought? What did they want? What were they looking for? Did any
realize that they had already found it and it engulfed them?

Experience the wonders of life; try to leave the places you go just as
they were when you arrived. The only important things are the
experiences, the adventures and saving the memories.

They will last forever.

Written for my friend Ron Mead. The man that I have spent so many hours,
fishing this country with.

� Bobby, May, 2001