Since the 9/11 terrorist attacks on New York, the airlines have been telling all passengers to show up at the airport at least two hours early. It's a good thing I heeded their advice last Friday when I flew from SeaTac to Spokane to meet my friend, Mathis, who picks me up at the airport for our weekly trip to the Clearwater.
The line to check baggage at the Southwest Airlines desk in the main terminal was the longest line I have seen outside of Disneyland. It serpentined away from Southwest, past TWA, past British Airways, around the corner by the Starbucks stand, and down past the back entrances of British Airways, TWA and Southwest and almost back again. It was so long that I spent a buck to get a luggage cart so I wouldn't wear out the bottom of my gearbags as I kicked them along the floor on my stop and go march to the check-in counters. I had arrived at 11:30 am for a 1:30pm flight. By the time I checked in my rod case and bags, cleared the security checkpoint (line #2) and got in line #3 at the gate to get my boarding pass, it was 1:15! All my flies, nippers, and cigar lighters were in my checked bags so I thought I was sterile. Not. This time they confiscated my hemostat (the rusty curved one with blunt ends). On the river, it is the kill season and the competition for the pools was fierce. We thought that by drifting the river, we would have an advantage. Not. Wading anglers weren't the problem, it was the plug-pullers in the jetboats. We were able to get into one of our favorite pools right at sunrise but after 9am, the jetboats would roar up, cut off our casting angles, drop their lines, smile and wave to us, then ask if we had any luck while we made it look obvious that we were waiting for them to get out of our way. But it wouldn't be long before another boat showed up, coinciding with the sound of our reels (if you could hear them over the din) winding up. We left them to squabble amongst themselves over the hole. Sunday, we drove to our favorite run at 6:45. It was still dark and there was an empty pickup parked in the trees. Geez, someone was on the water already! We waved to him and walked around the bend downstream to fish a couple other short runs where Mathis landed a 10 lb. hatchery hen. An hour later, we walked back up to see if earlybird was still in the water. He was in the same spot we saw him earlier. He told us that he had hooked and lost a fish there and wanted to get it back. He said we could step in and fish below him if we wished. We thanked him (while rubbing our hands with obvious glee). Four casts later I stuck a good fish. I got a hard yank and a surface wallow out of him before I released it. Then the first jetboat pulled up. Leland.
