Yesterday we drove to the Guadalupe and I lay in cypress roots by the side of the river and thought I was going to die. I’d been nauseous driving, and then at some point over the three hour drive it struck me: “hey! I’m sick!” I’m quick that way.
I was going to sleep in the car while Kris fished but no, I’m a manly man and thought I needed to at least try the river. Last week I’d rigged nymph rigs, but being sick and stupid I’d left them at home. I rigged from scratch which took forever, and then my line was threaded wrong through my reel. How did that happen? How did I do that? I always thought the feminine name was the worst part of a Hardy Duchess. Can reels be girly? But the worst part of the Duchess reel is that the line is supposed to thread through a closed window. Unlike every other reel I’ve ever owned, you can’t fix line problem by removing the spool, re-routing the line, then putting the spool back in. You have to start all over.
I still like the reel though. It’s a lovely thing. I’m sure it appeals to my feminine side. And I guess really good fly fisherfolk never screw up their rigging.
We were parked at a steep bank below a high bluff. There were stairs down and then a path along the river. I made it maybe 100 feet downriver, enough to get away from Kris and the other guy fishing. Then my dropper rig got tangled before my first cast. Do you know how to keep dropper rigs from tangling? Fish with streamers.
It took awhile, but I worked out the tangle, then cast four or five or ten times, then got tangled again, then cut off my flies and lay down in the cypress roots. I have always loved cypress, and the roots going down into the river look like something made up by Tolkien. When I was laying in the roots and deciding whether to throw up I wondered, do I barf in the earthy space between the roots, or go for the river? Either was ready to hand, with my feet in the water and my back on the knobby roots. I decided on the earthy space, but lay back down and the nausea went away. Still thinking about it, just in case, I decided the ground was the right choice. Barf floating downriver doesn’t sound pleasant. Chum? Maybe carp? I had no upchuck emergers.
So I lay in the roots and looked up through the tree limbs and wondered if this was how it felt to be a wounded soldier on the field of battle. I get dramatic when I’m sick. Honestly though, to get out of there I had to climb up the bank through the tangle of roots and then up the stairs to the car and I just didn’t think I would make it. If there had been anyone to haul me out I’d have agreed. I did it though, sooner or later, and I didn’t even break my rod. We drove home and I slept on the drive then slept through to this morning.
On the upside, we did find kolaches, at the recommendation of my friend John Geddie, at The Original Kountry Bakery in Schulenberg. I hadn’t realized I was sick yet, so I ate two, a cherry and a poppy seed. They were perfectly acceptable, though I thought the sugar glaze was gilding the lily.
And oh yeah, Kris pointed out that all those nymph rigs were in a box in the car, right where I’d have seen them if I’d just looked.
