Nude on the Yakima
This one of my old fly fishing stories that may or may not amuse.
Thing is, every word is true.
A Nude on the Yakima
Flyfishing Stories by Bob Lawless
Every angler I have ever known has always had the same fantasy that I have had and yet this same dream never seems to come true. I speak here of finding a beutiful woman, completely naked, lying on a log, sunbathing, and ready for some fun in the sun.
But this very thing happened to me on the Yakima last week. I was wading as usual way too deep for my own health and I was feeling along the bottom hoping that things would shallow up if I could just make it around this snag and then back toward the bank and then I would be in a beautiful position to make a short roll cast and flip my fly along an undercut bank that cannot be approached in any other way. Only in low water years can this be done.
I know there is a monster hiding there because he has broken me off twice. Each time he strikes, he makes a dash for the snag and pop goes the weasel.
So here I am, only 1/4" more of rubber left before terrible flooding will begin. I am afraid to breath and it is just then that my eyes catch a glimse of her. At first I think that I have drowned and have gone to fly heaven(no wind,lots of hatches with flies to match, gargantuan fish, no one around, nice lunches, and, of course, beautiful women at every turn).
She is looking straight at me and does not seem alarmed in any way.
I fight desperately to think of something cool to say. Finally, I come up with, "Hi, what's your sign?" About a glass of water spills down my waders, soaking my abalones, and makes it to my socks. She smiles ever so slightly.
So I say,"Haven't we met before?" I took on about a pint with that one. No reaction from her.
I am quite wet now but still afloat. So I say, "Do you come here often?" (I keep amazing myself with all of these cool pick up lines I keep coming up with). Nothing. Even though that last line caused about a qallon of water to flood in, I kept it up. Briefly, I thought I might just get nasty and say something crude, but I am too much of a gentleman to do such a thing. An she was obviously even more than a lady.
So I'm thinking, what to do?
I believe honesty in relationships is always the best policy and so I say, "Miss, you are certainly the most beautiful nude woman I have ever seen while fly-fishing, well, in fact, anywhere. And you have caused me such pleasure in seeing you thusly that I wonder if you would like a dozen flies or so." A very small shake of the head, no.
By now, I am completely swamped and I'm sliding along the bottom, but my neck and head are still out of the water. Somehow my hat, a propeller beanie, has floated off.
Smolt, my tiny vest pocket dog, has abandoned the vest and is standing on my head. Oleander, my vest pocket parrot, is standing on Smolt's head. So the three of us are slowly drifting past the maiden.
But she does seem amused for some strange reason. Her smile, very faint, can be seen. Oleander and Smolt are speechless. I can't think of anything to say either.
I get this rather stupid look on my face even though I am doing my best to look suave and handsome, even sexy, but it's tough when you have a parrot and a dog on your head and you are slowly being washed downstream. So, with tears, I wave goodbye just before I hit the white-water. I watched her throw a rose in the water and I am still wondering what that meant. Was it a sign? An invitatation? A rejection?
About 1/2 mile downstream from this incident, I was able to make it to the bank. Oleander and Smolt returned to their pockets in my vest.
I trudged back upriver and when I came to the log, she was gone. In her place was another rose. What? What? What?
Bob, the How Could I have bombed out?