MattBoyer
Active member
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2006
- Messages
- 1,515
So, this past Thursday the wife asks me if it will be OK if she and the kids aren't home until bedtime. "Well, I guess that would be alright honey........" is my response, trying to stop the grin, knowing that I will be getting off work around 5 and it is supposed to rain in Carlisle that afternoon. My thoughts immediately turn to the Letort after a thunderstorm and I'm trying to figure out how many ant patterns I have in my box. Not enough, but I think I'm gonna make it.
I struggle through that day at work trying to contain myself and finally it is afternoon. I make the drive, which seems like an hour even though I could probably drive a golf ball there if I got a good skip off the road. I sat at the bridge at Bonnybrook tying on a new leader just basking in the wonderful warmth of the afternoon and trying to slow myself down a bit. I decide I am going to head downstream to the meadows somewhere past the trestle.
I hadn't walked more than 100 yards when I realized that
A)There will be no rain on this day and-
B)It's hot as heck out!
I stopped at the trestle bridge to toy with a few smallish trout there, which, to my surprise, acted like other trout that I had seen before. I didn't catch any, but they didn't hear me coming or know my name and that of my wife and kids before I got there. They were trout, and acted as such. This is a breakthrough for me on this stream. Trout acting like trout. Weird. Ten or fifteen casts later they got bored with me and moved a little deeper, so I decided they wanted a break.
I walked a little further down the trail until I was behind the stone house at the end of Houser lane and saw a decent spot to get to the stream. It was a fairly wide trail and it looked like it had been used pretty well, so I confidently made my way down. I had gone about 50 feet when it started to get deep. "It can't be this deep the whole way" I think to myself, and proceed to push through. It was... and then some. My left leg met no resistance on my next step and my right leg was sitting on it's knee and I was quite stuck. I tried to pull my leg out and fell forward while sinking a few inches deeper. Crap. I've got maybe three inches of wader left at this time, tops. Panic set in for a second as I tried to remember every survival manual and course that I had ever taken and if they mentioned this situation. The one common thing from all of them that came to my mind was "relax, come up with a plan and follow through with it". At the risk of filling up my waders, which wasn't the evil no-no in this situation that it would be in moving water, I lean forward and "swim" holding on to vegetation and pulling myself out. Whew. That was scary.
I looked upstream a bit and saw a tree next to the creek a few yards away. Tree=solid ground 9 times out of 10 time so I regrouped and got my nerves back together under the tree and really had an appreciation for my surroundings and how beautiful the place was. A cloud passed overhead allowing me a glimpse of the world under the crystal clear mirror and once again, there were trout, acting like trout. I watched them for about 30 minutes, took a few casts and headed back to my car, with no trout, but a full day's experience under my belt and having learned more than a couple things. I'll share the story of my encounter with a fairly shady dude who was sitting by my car when I got back on a later day, as this was a fairly big life lesson, too, but I'll chalk that up to a "Carlisle experience" and not a "Letort experience".
Boyer
I struggle through that day at work trying to contain myself and finally it is afternoon. I make the drive, which seems like an hour even though I could probably drive a golf ball there if I got a good skip off the road. I sat at the bridge at Bonnybrook tying on a new leader just basking in the wonderful warmth of the afternoon and trying to slow myself down a bit. I decide I am going to head downstream to the meadows somewhere past the trestle.
I hadn't walked more than 100 yards when I realized that
A)There will be no rain on this day and-
B)It's hot as heck out!
I stopped at the trestle bridge to toy with a few smallish trout there, which, to my surprise, acted like other trout that I had seen before. I didn't catch any, but they didn't hear me coming or know my name and that of my wife and kids before I got there. They were trout, and acted as such. This is a breakthrough for me on this stream. Trout acting like trout. Weird. Ten or fifteen casts later they got bored with me and moved a little deeper, so I decided they wanted a break.
I walked a little further down the trail until I was behind the stone house at the end of Houser lane and saw a decent spot to get to the stream. It was a fairly wide trail and it looked like it had been used pretty well, so I confidently made my way down. I had gone about 50 feet when it started to get deep. "It can't be this deep the whole way" I think to myself, and proceed to push through. It was... and then some. My left leg met no resistance on my next step and my right leg was sitting on it's knee and I was quite stuck. I tried to pull my leg out and fell forward while sinking a few inches deeper. Crap. I've got maybe three inches of wader left at this time, tops. Panic set in for a second as I tried to remember every survival manual and course that I had ever taken and if they mentioned this situation. The one common thing from all of them that came to my mind was "relax, come up with a plan and follow through with it". At the risk of filling up my waders, which wasn't the evil no-no in this situation that it would be in moving water, I lean forward and "swim" holding on to vegetation and pulling myself out. Whew. That was scary.
I looked upstream a bit and saw a tree next to the creek a few yards away. Tree=solid ground 9 times out of 10 time so I regrouped and got my nerves back together under the tree and really had an appreciation for my surroundings and how beautiful the place was. A cloud passed overhead allowing me a glimpse of the world under the crystal clear mirror and once again, there were trout, acting like trout. I watched them for about 30 minutes, took a few casts and headed back to my car, with no trout, but a full day's experience under my belt and having learned more than a couple things. I'll share the story of my encounter with a fairly shady dude who was sitting by my car when I got back on a later day, as this was a fairly big life lesson, too, but I'll chalk that up to a "Carlisle experience" and not a "Letort experience".
Boyer
