Nice rack - the Coach was right
Weird things on the river.
Here in Britain it's class war, entrenched attitudes, pointy plastic boats, petty points scored, vitriol poured (all in the best possible taste, of course)...
All you need is a nice rack (from my men, women and beavers thread; I don't know just what Coach is on, I don't want to know, but we all might get on a bit better for it):
10-02-2006, Washington Flyfishing Forums
Location: Seattle, Wa
Weird Things on the River
Okay, nowadays we deal with tweakers, mountain men, animals, god knows what. How about some stories about weird things we've seen on a river. UFOs and Bigfoot are okay. I've got a hundred, but here is one. Things have been too tense around site lately anyway. Bust out some good stuff and let's laugh a bit. Share your weirdest and wildest. Coach
I pulled into Seapost on the NF of the Stilly at 4:45 am. (Something like that, it was July and the Sun was just starting. Still dark, BMNT for all you vets) It was a last minute decision to hit this ******* of a river. I was kicking ass on the SF of the Stilly around Red Bridge. Really kicking ass. I have no idea why I turned at the last minute to take my usual beating on the NF. If Zane Grey and Haig Brown hadn't caught their first steelehead in Deer Creek, I'd curse it daily. How do ya curse a river that Walt Johnson lived on? Well, ya can't. I had just gotten out of the Corps a year earlier and was living with a stripper. Substances were an issue in those days, so this entire story could be a vision brought on by heavy alcohol and whatever else I could snort or smoke, but I feel to this day that I saw this. So I am unpacking my gear on the far side of the bridge and so hung over that I lean against the full-size Bronco and realize something needs to be done. A ha! A beer! Hair of the dog baby! I grabbed a Rainer Pounder, opened the passenger side and sat down. Jane's Addiction was screaming the Mountain Song and the sun was waking up. It's rally time. Just then in the distance, I saw her. Walking down the dirt road, wearing that same ****ing white dress Marylyn Monroe wore. Blond hair, white pumps and I could see her red nails. I immediately thought about that 12 step ****. Well there was another time I was on a bender and pulled out on 15th at the bottom of Queen Anne and saw elephants, zebras and lions walking down the street at 5 in the morning, but that was the straw the broke the camel's back. (I didn't know the circus was in town, that one took me weeks to get over) So anyway, she keeps walking, walking, walking. She's in no rush, she's strutting her stuff. I hear the "click, click, click" of those heels as she mounts the bridge. It's just me and her and the NF. Where is Enos Bradner when you need him. She's not bad looking I think, nice rack. This is where she makes her money boys. She smiles, turns, bends over and shows me the saddle patch. No undies at all. Actually it was more of a leach strip. She straightens, cocks her head, smiles and "click,click,click" off she goes. Back across the bridge and down the road. Gone. The memory lingering. I sat there drinking my beer for a long while, all by myself. I remember feeling both cursed and lucky at the same time. You know the whole, "I got to sober up. My life is a mess, My mom is proud of that stripper, is this what I learned in the Corps?" and finally after I regained some sanity and composure, "Now that's how ya start off a morning. Did you see that #$%^&?! I need another beer!" She was long gone when I realized excactly how those poor ****ers feel when they see Bigfoot. Who do ya tell? And not get a key to a rubber room?
I got skunked that day, like the NF seems to do me. She doesn't give me much. But one summer morning she gave me the lady in white. Maybe now I know why Zane, Enos, Roderick, Walt and Wes loved it so.
No animals were injured or abused in the telling of this story. True story