|And later, after Richard has found The
Beach. He and Jed, on look-out duty. Anticipating the
unwelcomed appearance of new arrivals and seeing nothing
Richard: "Im bored."
Jed: "Bored is good. Bored is safe."
All my life more than anything Ive feared boredom and have always been puzzled by its easy, seemingly unresisted, acceptance by so many. Having adventures. That is was has always driven me. (Which explains my choice of women, in most cases.) Are there still adventures to be had?
Here is my dispatch from Wade Lake:
In the campsite next to mine, down the hill, open, on the water, there is an older Ford pickup truck, a minivan, a Chevy Blazer, three women, two dogs, eight kids from about the ages 12 to 2, two tents, and a pile of large yellow toy dump trucks, road graders, and heavy machinery. The dogs: Cody and Buck, yellow labs. Buck stays at home, while the younger, Cody, wanders.
The kids: all boys, one girl. The boys: Jason, Dustin, Joey, Tucker, Paul are names I heard. The girl had bright red hair, very white skin and lots of freckles. She told me she sunburns real easy. All day long the mothers call childrens names. Get out of the water. Watch your sister. Stop that. Put that down. Be careful. Come here. You have five minutes and then let Tucker play with it. Wheres Paul? Put your shirt back on. Scattered everywhere are towels, toys, clothes. The moms are like ants going back and forth from a sugar source. Pulling some kid from the water. Putting a shirt on some kid. Taking off a shirt from some kid. Picking up some kid who fell down. Taking something away from some kid. Bringing some kid to the bathroom. The dads- carpenter, electrician, banker- are all back home working. The moms tell me they are having such a great time. They are enjoying this get-away so much.
All morning the kids have been trying to catch minnows with a little pail. They have two minnows. With some left over mosquito netting and a couple sticks I make a seine net and give it to the kids. I show them how to use it and on the first pass they catch a couple dozen minnows. They tell me I have saved their lives. It all sounds like quite the adventure.
Wade Lake, Ennis, Montana-
The trout in Wade Lake taunt you. They swirl on the surface of the aqua blue transparent water, snatching floating insects and leaping for those flying by. They are not concerned about the noise they make as they flop about in the still water.
Ideally, flies are what you should be using. But I DONT HAVE A FLY ROD. So for two days I threw everything in my tackle box at the trout in Wade Lake: Mepps, Roostertails, Panther Martins, orange, black, yellow, silver, gold. I used my beloved Twister Tails. Black. Yellow. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.
This morning, as the sky was beginning to lighten I assembled on my little spinning rig a tiny blaze-orange blade and treble hook with a small split shot two feet up the line and began to troll. This is a lure of my own design, created to be used with a clear bubble to fish wide, rapid rivers. The lake was perfectly still. I shared it only with the ospreys that grew smug and fat using Wade Lake as their refrigerator. The line trailing behind. The canoe creating a gentle wake in the steaming early morning water. Approaching the campsite, my rod bent over and line began to peel off my real. The surface broke 75
yards behind the canoe. It was the same noise I had been hearing for two days, but I sensed a certain urgency in the splash this time. It was a 20" rainbow. Its in the cooler.
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