Meandering

The following is an excerpt of a conversation discussing the previous post. It was pulled from the USENet Newsgroup Rec.Outdoors.Fishing.Fly with the authors permission.

Wolfgang: I recall a day on a stream somewhere in central Pennsylvania, lo these many years ago. There, upon the very bridge once traversed by the three billygoats gruff, stood a clutch of erstwhile fishermen who smelled of strong drink, and the truth was not in them. Eagerly and breathlessly, OH so eagerly and breathlessly, we watched the merry Frankster, standing stolid and steely-eyed in the foam and the froth, casting ever so persistently to the presumed fish which had long ago fled the wobbling shadows of the equally steadfast (and, admittedly, somewhat bloated) forms defiling the very asphalt above.....which latter, if you've ever seen it, you know is a pretty impressive (though not at all pretty) accomplishment.....asphalt ain't all that easy to defile.
Anyway, back in those days, the magnificent "bend like an oak or break like a" Reid was already (and justifiably) famous for having repeatedly (and with malice aforethought) pissed in the very face of death.
Um.....not real bright, some doubters might suggest, but panache, spelled with a capital.....uh.....whatever that first letter is, to the aficionado. We loved it. We ate it up. We waited with 'bated breath. We giggled in anticipation and elbowed each other in the ribs. We smiled. We laughed. We stank.
And then.......

Handyman Mike: Ah, yes and as I was passing over the mountain in central Pa. I came across 2 souls attempting to coax a trout or two from a small stream. I slowed down and told them there was a storm a-brewing with clap of thunder and bolts of lightning. Haven't heard anything said the souls. Then came the clap of thunder and the bolts of lightning. Climb in the back I tell these 2 souls. So they climbed into the steel flatbed body (not tin}. Wasn't real sure if we were going to get them to the Cherry Run cabin unscathed or fried..........Was a great clave that year for sure..........

Wolfgang: Hadn't thought about that day for a long time. I've had many great days on trout streams. Sharing that one on Cherry Run with Mark, catching numerous sparkling brook jewels, ranks high among them. Riding back to the cabin in the back of a truck, dodging lightning bolts, gave the whole experience a certain quotidian comico-mystical quality worthy of treatment by someone like McManus.....or maybe Traver would be a better choice. Yeah, I think so. The bear in the tent would be more in McManus's line.
The only disappointment I recall in the trip was that day on the bridge. There we were, with front row seats at a show that promised certain disaster, excruciating physical pain, blood, and general mayhem, and Frank........Frank, the chiseling bastard, did not float down the stream upside-down, Frank did not have a leg broken by a falling tree, Frank did not fracture his skull on a bridge abutment, Frank did not bleed out after perforating a major artery with one of his famous fighting craws, Frank did not disappear in a pool of quicksand. No, Frank lost his bug in a shrubbery and then walked out of the stream unscathed, saying, "next!"
I wanted my money back. :(