Waking Up.

This morning has found me sitting in the lodge catching up on long past emails as I look at the window into a thick fog. I can not even see the river. After three long months of guiding every day, I cherish a foggy morning. A break in the schedule.

In an hour the fog will likely lift as the sun rises high and burns it off and it will be go time. I will alert my clients to wader up and then I'll jump in mine. After packing the plane with our lunch, drinks, fly rods, and bags the pilot will fire up the cold de Havilland Beaver and we will push off from the dock to taxi in the main river while our beautiful plane warms.

Upon takeoff I will likely have fallen into a deep sleep dreaming of large rainbows. In what seems like seconds I will awake to watch the Beaver slip low in the sky and touch down on a small wild Alaskan creek.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I will pull start the 30 Yamaha motor with all the vigor of a brute and mutter something about how I don't like anything about that motor. And then I will think of how I got serious guns right now sans push ups or any other work out joke that bores me. After a few minutes of warming this cold little engine on the river, I will throw her into full throttle and watch as my heavy Grummond jumps on plane.



I will likely reach down and pull the plug hoping that I look back to see the middle river again. The beavers to my right will plunge under water or scurry up the dam as we fly by as fast as I can make that Grummond go forward. The flocks of merganzers flap through the water in panic. And as I turn the next bend, forty fat and stupid seagulls scatter into the air and I pray none of that crap hits me or my boat.

Soon the river narrows and changes so I stand to keep watch for new snags and obstacles as we race on. A bear hustles to make a quick getaway as we round a tight corner and a bald eagle sits sentinel on a towering tree top. He's always there, watching, eyeing me.

As I make a tight curve along the grassy bank, I could reach out and touch a large dark brown bear lazily waiting for his sockeye breakfast. Two osprey pick up speed as we hit a straight way and fly ahead, forging our path. As I make some funky boat manuever to miss the tree blocking the entire river I notice a large rainbow scattering into the depths of the run. Minutes later and twenty twists and turns I release the throttle and we drift into the gravel bar.

First cast into the beautiful water and a rainbow thrashes the flesh fly... I will think "There is no better way to wake up."