Fresh off last week's AWESOME trip to this lake, I decided I was going again this week. See, after about 1 day I forget about the brutal hikes and the hours of rain and just remember gorgeous brook trout, and lots of them.

Well, this week it didn't rain. In fact it was gorgeous and sunny! But I got wet and cold nonetheless. I'll get to that later.

The trip almost didn't happen, as Mr. B is out of town, and the force of nature wasn't feeling well and bailed the day before. After much contemplation of brook trout vs potential cougar attack, I made the obvious choice - I tried to find a way to drive in before just hiking!

I studied Google maps carefully and chose an alternative logging road that looked promising, and it was going GREAT .... right up until the large pile of boulders that had been bulldozed onto the road. So I turned around and was rolling out by 8:15 am from the usual spot. Knife *in hand* as the cougar is not going to just waltz up and say ... "hey bro, I'm about to attack, so get that knife out of the sheath and get ready". Remember my raft had to be abandoned out there on the last trip, so as long as the raft is there, I decided to hump one of my batteries out there to see how practical it was so next time I could take it and someone else could carry the motor, motor mount, etc, and we could just hit the lake in style!

Well, let me tell you - all my usual gear in the backpack, plus 25-ish extra pounds of battery? O-M-G. It sucked, BIG time. My shoulders were burning in perhaps 5 minutes, as the battery was heavy enough to pull my backpack down enough to shift too much weight off of my hips. And since I"m not a hiker, I dont really understand backpack adjustment. My solution? I ran all the downhills on the hike to get it over faster, both out and back, and took zero rest breaks. I just monstered it. Which sucked at the time, but my inner mind cost/benefit analysis determined that the only benefit to a rest break would be to .... time shift the pain? Which accomplishes nothing in the long run. One of the benefits of being powered by an unlimited fuel tank of rage is that while I care how much it hurts, hurting doesn't stop me. Most of the time. Long story short - I'm not humping that battery again unless other things come out of the backpack.

So I get to the lake and I'm too wore out to mess with the big raft. I dont have the motor anyway. So I use the battery to inflate my little raft! Examining the patch I put on to stop the slow leak last night, all looks great, and I slap on some waterproof tape I'd bought just to be safe. I do not try any casts off the primitive dock, as it's all frosty and I'm just not willing to be that guy who falls off the dock in 25 degree weather for NO REASON whatsoever before even getting a chance to fish. But I see regular splashing just off the dock in the same general area we got bites last time! I inflate the raft and begin fishing immediately in the same honey hole we had so much success at last week, using the same lure, perch pattern 3/8ths castmaster, although it's bright skies and clear water instead of downpour and dim. On the other rod I have a silver vibrax. Half a dozen casts in I have a great bite, fish on! But it shakes the lure while still deep enough I can't see it. A few cast later, another bite! Sweet, this is going to be an awesome day! Few more casts, bam fish on again and this time it's in the boat. The usual ... hahaha, "usual" 11-12 inch gorgeous brook in full spawn brilliance. My stringer is still at the bottom of the lake from last time, so this time he just goes in the bottom of the boat. (editorial note - remember, brook trout are not trout. they slime up like they MEAN it. easily 3x the slime of a rainbow) I cast for about 5 minutes more with nothing, alternate with the vibrax a bit, still nothing, so I figure I"ll let them rest and begin working my way up the lake alternating lures. I can always come back for the 2 that got away later. I get to the pile of sticks that was the edge of the hot zone last time and decide to let them rest, calm down, and I'll just troll up the lake. I notice my knee is wet. Weird I think. Must have got some water in the boat when I landed the fish. I put on a little tiny dick nite spoon which was really good in Lake Smelling last week, and a fire tiger rooster tail and start rowing.

And rowing

And rowing

I get clear to the end of the lake without a bite. I see fish on the fisherman's TV, both at top 5 and bottom 5 feet of water, but they're not buying what I'm selling.

The wind has finally stabilized in a fairly favorable direction, so I switch back to the castmaster and the other pole gets a whole nightcrawler on about 30 feet of line. Down the lake I go. I'm getting nothing casting at the shore, or out toward the middle. At one point I'm seeing tons of returns on the bottom, so I try jigging the castmaster. No bites, and the wind is pushing too hard to jig successfully anyway. I throw toward the middle of the lake and wait a 12 count, see if that wont work instead. All of a sudden I feel something! And .... it's the contender you see in the pic for the All Time category of the My Eyes are Bigger than My Stomach award. But it's a brook trout, in the boat, and that makes 2. Back he goes and I keep casting.

Eventually I switch the perch pattern castmaster for chrome/blue. Nothing. By this time I have determined that it's not just splashing that's getting me wet. There is a LEAK in my rubber raft somewhere! By now, both knees are wet, the water has gotten into my boots making my feet wet, and it's wicking up my thighs! It's COLD kneeling in water in sub-40 degree weather for hours! I've drifted over half way back down the lake by the time I can't take it any more and row back to where I started. I try the silver castmaster, nothing. I switch back to perch pattern. Please, fish gods, just one more (how about the one I had on half way to the boat earlier), and I'll pack up and go home. Nope. The fish gods have forsaken me. After 20 minutes throwing the lure, I finally give up. The dock has unthawed and dried out so after getting my legs moving again, I throw off the dock a bit, into the wind so not good range. Nothing. I snag a huge wad of discarded line. That's an awesome thing to retrieve in a lake out in the middle of nowhere. Sigh. I wish I could look back in time and find who threw that garbage out there so I could kick them viciously in the nuts. So after launching my raft to retrieve my lure and the wad of crap, I deflate my raft, pack up all my stuff, and head out. The nightcrawler got not even a nibble after an hour+ in the water, which I find unbelievable in a trout lake. The rainbows must be in hibernation. Or given the pic showing how brooks act, maybe the brooks ate them all haha.

Putting on that heavy pack to hump that battery out? SUCKS.

So I pound my way out, knife in hand and ready for battle just like on the way in, but the cougars do not volunteer.

Oddly, all those pieces of my motor mount I lost last week? I cannot find a single one of the nine. But I do pick up about 5 pieces of the skid plate from Mr. B's roller luggage that we tore to shreds last week, and take them home to dispose of.

Humping that battery was a real challenge. I had to go to my emergency rage fuel tank - bringing up old memories of people who have screwed me over in the past. As usual, since rage is the most potent fuel in the universe, I persevered. But it was hard. I had dry socks and shoes which was awesome, but my pants were still wet and cold even after stopping at a put and take along the way home and getting skunked (the fish gods really DID forsake me!!!), and then stopping at Fred Meyer for fried chicken, my go to "OMG IT'S FREEZING" snack. But at the end of the day? Brook trout for dinner makes it all worth while. Turns this 2 star rated experience into a 4 star. Even in the face of spontaneous cramping in my legs as I write this hahahaha. Sigh. It's 9:30 and I'm falling asleep through a full can of rockstar post hike. Or I would be, if I didn't cramp up every time I shift my weight! Good times, and tight lines!

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