Sometime it hurts...

ed from bama

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to not be able to do what you want to do.
And what I really wanted to do was stop and try to catch a trout.

My wife and I spent the night in a cheap motel in Alamogordo, New Mexico. It was OK- when you're tired enough, any place you can lie down and sleep is OK. In the very early morning pre-dawn light, we could see dusts of snow falling on the very tops of the mountains outside of the town, and since our path took us up into those mountains, the road conditions were a consideration. Actually, we were going home, and it really didn't matter what the road conditions were, we were by God going home. It was one of those kind of trips we were on. don't you see?
So we loaded up, grabbed an on the road breakfast from the Golden Arches, and headed up.
It was not terrible. The state of New Mexico road crews had been out during the night and had the roads mostly cleared, but I could tell from the tracks which sometimes went a bit too far off the shoulder that it had been a rough old cob driving the mountains the night before. There were a few stuck in the soft shoulder mud and snow abandoned cars here and there.
We made it through Cloudcroft, New Mexico which is pretty far up in those particular mountains and which appeared to be a tourist-type area, and there were skiers and other snow sports folks heading up to the high slopes. We stopped at a roadside pull-off to stretch and feel the cold, and cold it was.
And then it was time to load back up. We still had to make our way through eastern south New Mexico and then through the hellish wastes of the west Texas gas and oil fields.
Soon the road from the high country began to slope down toward the east, and we were coming out of the mountains, and we left the last patches of snow behind.

I have to tell you, some things that are in certain ways important never leave my mind, and I recognize these things as matters of importance.
As we drove down the slopes, I glanced out the passenger side window, and there was a cattle pasture- a big, wide one, and here close to the road was a flash of water. And alongside the water was the green that could only mean watercress. I slowed the truck, and there between some big trees- cottonwoods, I think- was a flash of water and there was a big buck mule deer standing in the water.
My wife was mostly asleep, and she stirred when I turned around and drove back.
I pulled the truck off on the shoulder and walked to the steep roadside drop-off above the water. It was a creek below me- a good one, and it was running fast and clear, and the watercress was growing lush and thick on both banks.
I have never found a creek that supported watercress that didn't also support trout. And there, just a few yards above the fast water of the run I was looking down into, was a long, deep pool, and I could see trout rising to some kind of bug there. A lot of trout, it appeared.
And then I stepped wrong and kicked a rock which rolled down the steep embankment into the trees, and the water was shattered by the big buck mule deer and his pack of lady friends. They proinked across the pasture in that silly four-foot hop at one time way mule deer run when they want to get away from something. Water from the stream ran from their sides and bellies as they went across the pasture and up into the hills of pines and scrub brush on the other side. Then they were gone.
And the trout were still rising in the pools above.
I walked back to the truck and when we drove on, I saw the roadside sign that advertised "Trout Fishing- Private Stream- By the day or Annual Memberships." I considered my five-weight fly rod in the case right behind the seat.
My wife didn't even open her eyes and said, "Don't even think about it. We need to make it through Texas today."

She was right, of course, but I wanted badly to stop and catch a trout. It would have been much better than driving through the horrible petro-chemical wasteland of Texas and its vile dusty crosswinds and third-world highway system. As I drove through Texas and tried to dodge the worst of the potholes and bumps and canyons of the road, I couldn't help thinking about those trout rising to insects on the water.

We didn't make it through Texas, though, but we tried. I expect the trout are still rising.

good day to all- Ed
 

darkshadow

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My wife didn't even open her eyes and said, "Don't even think about it..."
If I had a nickel....

The drive from LA to Yellowstone passed by so many blue lines, and in Idaho, i remember pulling up to a gas station to 'fill up,' even though I still had half a tank left, all so I could walk down to the bridge that went over the Henry's Fork.

When I got back to the truck, my significant other at the the time, who was fast asleep since Pocatello, mutters, "We didn't need gas, did we? See any fish down there?"
 

pmh_usa

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The Alabama gentleman's literary license - to a great degree, I'm sure - was paid at the cost of a much bruised and battered, but virtuous male ego. Correct, Sir?
 

ed from bama

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Good evening to all-
Well, Brothers, at the end of this particular trip across Texas, it was not my male ego that was bruised- it was my hindermost parts, and they were sore.

But I have been married a long, long time, and I have come to realize that when management says "go" I might as well saddle up and hit the trail. Anything else is just not an option.
good day to all- Ed
 
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