I was very fortunate this Spring in that I was able to spend some time in the company of Pescaphile on his "Home Waters".
The scenery as always was magnifecent and being there brought back memories (as usual) of other trips and campouts on the same rivers. One of my favorite camps was one that Bob and I shared far from the crowds and roads. We had located the camp on a beautiful and isolated section of river with wall tent, tables, and chairs, the lap of luxury was ours thanks to the small inflatable jet boat.
Most nights as we sat around camp we would be seranaded by wolves sometimes for hours. It was awesome in the real sense of the word.
I have not been camping there in too many years I stay with friends in nearby villages and commute to the rivers now. This has pretty much cut me out of the oppurtunity to be seranaded by the K9 choirs. However this Spring I was very lucky in that I not only got to be someplace that had the possibility of hearing a wolf howl I actually saw two of them cross the river a 1/4 mile below me. I was hidden from there view and I was upwind of there position, I froze in my tracks until they were across the river and out of sight. I really wanted a closer look, but dream on, one hand move towards a camera or binoculars and they would have turned to ghost!
I was uplifted by the event and walked upstream about a half mile from where they crossed and waded out into the water to start fishing for cutthroats. I was very quietly making my way down the pool when directly across from me I hear a strange little rough throated "Bark" like a dog that was hoarse of voice. this continued for several minutes and was followed by both of them giving me a wonderful and very loud duet of "Howling Wolf" Opus one, for about two minutes followed by the kind of silence that can only exisit in similar settings.
Fishing to me is seldom as mundane as catching a "Fish".
The scenery as always was magnifecent and being there brought back memories (as usual) of other trips and campouts on the same rivers. One of my favorite camps was one that Bob and I shared far from the crowds and roads. We had located the camp on a beautiful and isolated section of river with wall tent, tables, and chairs, the lap of luxury was ours thanks to the small inflatable jet boat.
Most nights as we sat around camp we would be seranaded by wolves sometimes for hours. It was awesome in the real sense of the word.
I have not been camping there in too many years I stay with friends in nearby villages and commute to the rivers now. This has pretty much cut me out of the oppurtunity to be seranaded by the K9 choirs. However this Spring I was very lucky in that I not only got to be someplace that had the possibility of hearing a wolf howl I actually saw two of them cross the river a 1/4 mile below me. I was hidden from there view and I was upwind of there position, I froze in my tracks until they were across the river and out of sight. I really wanted a closer look, but dream on, one hand move towards a camera or binoculars and they would have turned to ghost!
I was uplifted by the event and walked upstream about a half mile from where they crossed and waded out into the water to start fishing for cutthroats. I was very quietly making my way down the pool when directly across from me I hear a strange little rough throated "Bark" like a dog that was hoarse of voice. this continued for several minutes and was followed by both of them giving me a wonderful and very loud duet of "Howling Wolf" Opus one, for about two minutes followed by the kind of silence that can only exisit in similar settings.
Fishing to me is seldom as mundane as catching a "Fish".