Redneck Caper for sale!

Thank you Memike and Rob! Here's a quick story for ya:

One early morning when I lived in Glenwood Springs, I loaded up my backpack, jumped on the mountain bike and rode the sloping street down to the Colorado River. I took a right on the bike trail and headed about 5 miles upriver into Glenwood Canyon. The only noise was the trickle of the river (It was fall and the river was low) and the hum of my tires on the trail. The air was crisp and almost felt as if I could snap it if I could grab it. I found my spot and just sat there, trying to take in the 1000' canyon walls, the relatively quiet water and the sliver of sun just starting to knife into the cold crevasse.

As the sun started to warm the water and excite the insects, I started to see the trout stir the water in little circles, promising good fishing for an hour or two. Crack!! What sounded like a rifle shot was a beaver leaving a long V-trail in the silver water, obviously upset at my presence. The V-trail abruptly stopped and the beaver checked me out for about 10 seconds or so. After he realized that I wasn't a threat, he continued about his business and silently slid downriver. As I was absorbing all of this and feeling how lucky I was to be alive, right here, right now, I thought I heard I little scratching sounds to my left. I know that rattlers do hang out on these rocks from time to time, so I slowly turned to see what was creeping up on me. It was a pine marten checking me out from two feet away! This particular marten was a beautiful rust red color and his fall coat was thick. He wasn't afraid or aggressive so I thought I would turn away, thinking he would just meander away. Well, when I turned back he was still there, looking into the river as I was, close enough that I could have touched him, but I'm not that stupid! So here I was, chillin' with the pine marten, watching the sun slowly bring the river alive, and thinking that I could not feel more at one with the canyon than if I melted into the granite slab that I was sitting on. I will remember that day until I die.

This 24" furry slinky hung out with me even when I stood up and walked the 10 feet to a solid foothold I could fish from. Well anyway, the fishing was great, I caught 1 five pound and two 3 pound trout in about an hour! There is nothing quite like the sight and feel of a 5 pound trout breaching the water, puling my line tight as guitar string, slinging water off its back like diamonds in the morning sun. The pure energy vibrating my line and transmitted through my rod to my hands and straight into my brain like a shot of sunlight slicing through the trees in a early morning campsight scene.

I got him landed and it almost seemed a sin to keep him for breakfast. But not quite, as I was really hungy. Now was the easy pedal downstream to town, feeling as though I was king of the hill. On the opposite side of the canyon, the passenger train was cruising through. Not really thinking that the the engineer would see me, I waved in my perceived fishing mastery, still aglow in the vision of the big brown trout breaching water, and moving along in my self propeled, self-suffecient way. Yee-Haw! The engineer waves back and blows the horn! Apparently, I'm not the only one enjoying this crisp October morning.

As I crest the final hill, I'm now coasting right into town. Well, I thought, I know the people at Doc Holiday's Saloon, why not cruise right in and have the cook make me some fresh trout and share with the locals? Needless to say, that's exactly what I did and free beer was mine until 2 pm when I called it quits to nap and dream of brown trout, shedding drops of water like diamonds.