Date: Mon, 07 Aug 2006 00:33:44 -0700
From: fritz@nehalemtel.net
Subject: I Love Corey, Chapter Eighty-four

	I'm sorry, but it is once again time to start another chapter, so
that means I am again going to inflict upon you another of the dreaded
warning and disclaimers.  Closing your eyes will not help as you will still
know it is here.  Not reading it will only make you feel guilty, so just go
ahead and read it and get it over with.

	If I haven't managed to drive off those of you who are under the
age of your majority, I guess I haven't been very successful.  Still, I
remember well my youth, and I wouldn't have left just because of a silly
warning either.  So to all you minors out there, be careful and don't get
caught reading this.

	For those who are offended by descriptions of gay sex, quit lurking
around sites where you are most likely to encounter such things and get on
with your lives.  Do something productive like stick your finger in a light
bulb socket and quit bothering the rest of us.  Don't forget to leave the
switch on and be sure and stand in some water.

	If you live in a really backward area where you are not permitted
to read stories like this, sneak around slyly when doing so.  You can
always tell those in authority that you were investigating this story so
you could warn everyone off.  They won't believe that any more than I do,
but they will have a hard time proving differently.

	Fiction is something that allows your mind to run free.  As you
read this story you will probably note that my mind has a real problem
running anymore.  Nonetheless, the story is still fiction and as such you
should not believe a word of it.  After all, I'm writing it and I don't
believe it, so why should you?

	This has to be the most useless part.  If quoting from the story,
please credit me.  Yes I know, what is there to quote?  Still there are
people who seem to quote some rather inane things so I guess it could
happen no matter how unlikely it seems.  However, I'm not going to hold my
breath waiting for it to happen.  As for sharing any commercial gains, I
remember my first lesson in multiplication and it was twenty-seven times
zero is still zero.  Feel free to share your zeros with me.

	Don has once again helped.  You can't imagine the difference his
help makes, but if you really want to try, think of a bunch of chickens
trying to peck some corn off the keyboard.  Sometimes my writing looks much
like what they might produce.

	And of course here is the place where I give you an email address
so you can vent your anger.  Feel free to do so.  You can even offer
suggestions, ask questions, offer corrections, or whatever strikes your
fancy.  Just send them to "fritz@nehalemtel.net" with "I Love Corey" in the
subject line.  They will give me something to giggle over as I hit the
delete key on those days when words don't seem to come.  So with that, I
hope you enjoy the next chapter of the continuing saga of Corey and Sam.
********************************************************************************

			I Love Corey, Chapter Eighty-four

	The morning was definitely an improvement.  Still, a little more
rest would have been nice.  I was probably going to need all the rest I
could get because the weekend was coming and the last present for JJ was
due.  It was a fishing trip and I had promised it to him some time back,
but things kept getting in the way.  It wasn't all my fault as part of
those problems were things he wanted to do when I was free, but he'd been
looking forward to it ever since Christmas when I gave him the fishing
tackle he had on his wish list.  Vern and Nancy were going to take Fred and
Mike, and they had agreed to help the rest of the boys along with Kath and
Danny so I was going to have some time when it was just JJ and me.  In the
meantime there was still the trial today and with a little luck it would
actually get under way and I could testify and get it over with.  With real
luck I might even be done by noon, but I could only wait and hope.  On the
plus side, it gave me a lot of time this morning because court started
later than school.  I had more than enough time to read the paper while
trying to wake up.  The fact that Kath and the boys fixed breakfast meant
that I never had to lift a finger outside of making the coffee, and if I
hadn't been the first one up I probably wouldn't have had to do that.  Kath
did most of the cooking and the boys did their usual things such as Corey
squeezed the juice, LT fixed toast with the rest doing whatever else needed
to be done.  As for Kyle, he just couldn't seem to get out of bed early
enough to be much help with preparing breakfast.  I could get used to
having such leisurely mornings, but it would be nice if the paper was more
interesting.  Sometimes reading the news was just a waste of time, and
while I enjoy the comics, when they are the best the paper has to offer for
the day you know not much of interest is happening.

	I truly don't understand courts of law.  The jury was finally
seated and the trial got started and eventually I was called.  We had a
different judge for this trial as the one from the previous trial had
recused himself.  The new judge seemed to feel that he needed to allow
Rev. Langston to do the same things he had done in the first trial, namely
go on and on about how gays were the problem and that he and his friends
were only trying to save civilization from the evils of the gay community
or something like that.  I was only supposed to testify about the Gator
blowing up and about my security system which is what the direct
examination covered.  The Reverend's whole cross-examination was beyond me
and when he asked why I felt it necessary to have such an elaborate
security system, and what had I been doing to acquire enough money to
afford such a system, my answer that I had the system to protect myself
against people who threw bricks through windows brought about chuckles from
many, including several on the jury.  I also went on to explain that I
could afford the system because of the deaths of my parents and I had not
acquired the money from dealing drugs as he was insinuating.  I don't know
why, but he got red in the face and called me a liar, claiming that the
only reason for the security system was to unfairly point fingers at
God-fearing and upstanding people who were only trying to protect the
community.  When he did that, I started wondering if he was becoming
deranged.  It certainly didn't make any sense as a defensive tactic and I
had nothing else I could attribute it too.  Before Rev. Langston could
continue the judge announced he wanted to see all counsel in his chambers
and declared a recess.  Truthfully, Rev. Langston was beginning to remind
of Fred Phelps with a much smaller following.  All I could think was that
he was off his rocker for lack of a better expression.

	When the trial started again, it lasted for only a couple of
minutes before the judge declared Rev. Langston in contempt, adjourned the
trial for the rest of the day, and sent everyone home with orders to once
again be in court at nine a.m. Monday.  It was getting so late in the
afternoon by then that I couldn't even make it to practice.  I couldn't
believe how the day had been frittered away and why the DA hadn't had a
better idea of what time I would be needed to testify.  I thought about
going over and picking the boys up from practice, but instead I had a cup
of coffee with Russ Young, my attorney.  I don't know why I asked him to
attend, only that I felt a more comfortable with him there although I had
no idea how he might help me.

	As I was bitching about things like why had the DA asked to see me
before the trial when he didn't cover much, Russ explained there was a fine
line between coaching a witness and reminding him of what he'd said before.
When he explained that it was against the law to coach witnesses, suddenly
things made more sense as I'd wondered why DA's questions were so few and
not really all that targeted.  Russ told me that had any of my answers
disagreed with my previous statements, the DA would likely have shown me a
copy of my statements so I could refresh my memory, but owing to the fact
that I had made notes and reviewed them he probably didn't think it
necessary.  Now it made sense why he'd only asked me so few questions since
I'd been able to give complete and detailed answers.  At least the DA's
somewhat vague questions now made sense to me.  By doing it that way he had
gotten a very good idea of what I would likely testify about.  Sometimes
learning just a little more makes it easier to understand why things are
done certain ways and I had never known about the laws regarding the
coaching of witnesses, much less understood them.  When I added in that the
DA seemed to feel that there was more than enough evidence to pretty much
assure convictions, I started to understand why the DA had seemed a little
on the lackadaisical side to me.

      We joked around a little and he told me it was a waste of my money
for him to attend the trial, but I just told him it was my money and I
could waste it in any manner I wanted to, even to wasting it on an attorney
who hadn't said a thing in court.  He chuckled over that since he could see
the big grin on my face.  We also talked over a few items on the
scholarship program.  He apologized and told me it was going even slower
than he'd thought.  The reason for the slowness was I had envisioned it as
a backup program that would assure there were funds available for anyone
who couldn't get funding any other way.  That meant that it was complicated
to set up because of the wording necessary to keep people from just
applying to it and not pursuing other scholarships.  He rattled off some
names of a few pretty high-priced attorneys who were working on it trying
to make sure there were no loopholes.  When I commented that by the time
the lawyer sharks were done there would be nothing left, he grinned and
told me that most of them were so intrigued with the idea they were working
on it for pro bono and were planning to set up similar programs.

	I didn't understand why it should be so complicated, but he
explained that while a program could be set up that would work, it would be
somewhat at the mercy of the trustees of the program.  All the high-priced
legal eagles were trying to make sure there was no wiggle room for future
trustees to do other than what I wanted no matter how far in the future
they served.  He then told me about several foundations and some of the
things they were now doing which were probably not what their founders had
intended.  He threw out one last thing that almost shocked me.  A local
timber company used his services and they also wanted to set up a program
so he had let a few details of what I was trying to do out.  They were all
in favor of what I was trying to do and wanted to know if they could
contribute to it.  When he said they were thinking of a contribution of
five million bucks that got my attention.  There was also the problem of
what to do if the funds became so large that there were not enough students
in the local district to use them all.  My original plan had been that only
the interest on the money could be used for the scholarships, and that on
those years when there were not sufficient applicants to use all of it, the
leftover would be re-invested so that over a period of time the total
funding would grow to where there would be sufficient interest any year.  I
had never thought of the possibility that the funds might grow to where
there would be an excess of funds available each year, and had been
wondering where I could come up with additional funding.  The whole thing
kept getting more complicated all the time.  So far every time I had gotten
involved with attorneys it turned out to take a long time and never seemed
to turn out quite the way I had envisioned.  The death of my parents had
taken six years with lawyers battling every step of the way, and now simple
little things like Rev. Langston had been going on for months.  We finished
our coffee and I headed home.  It was just about dinnertime and I was
hungry.

	Kath was doing better on cooking and I made sure and complimented
her how good it was.  I swear she almost started to glow.  I was left
wondering if her husband had ever complimented her on anything.  She sure
didn't act like it.

	Vern and his boys showed up and the rest of the evening was spent
planning the fishing trip and checking over gear.  Once, when I looked
around, I realized Kath was in the kitchen doing something and said I
better go check on her.  Vern said Nancy had talked with her and they had
planned the lunch and she was probably working on her part.  The actual
planning didn't take long, but digging out some of Dad's old gear and
getting it ready so there was enough tackle and poles for all the boys did
take time.  We were going to fish a little series of lakes, well ponds
might be a better description, which we knew about and we could drive to
the middle one.  JJ and I would hike upstream and fish the upper one while
the rest would fish the middle and lower one.  I didn't fish much, but
those lakes had always produced on the times I'd tried them.  The best part
was that it was unlikely that we would have any company since the lakes
were behind that same gate where Corey and I had gone target shooting last
fall, and you either had to have a key or hike about eight miles to reach
them.  Even if the owner and his family showed up, there was plenty of room
for all, and likely plenty of fish.  The lakes were seldom fished and had a
good population of native trout, just what the doctor ordered for JJ.  We
had been trying to work a fishing trip in since Christmas and something
always seemed to interfere with it.  If I was free, then JJ wasn't.  On the
times he was available I had things I needed to do.

	It was a bunch of sleepy boys when they were rousted out to go
fishing.  I wasn't exactly alert myself, but some coffee helped and we were
finally off to beat the water to a froth in pursuit of the wily trout.
Kath was driving the Gator and I had the pickup and between them we managed
to crowd the Garvin's in.  I had Vern with me and we were talking about
just where everyone was going to fish.  We also discussed what might be the
most effective lures.  Furnishing enough gear for all the boys meant I was
down to Dad's fly fishing rig and I was something less than the worlds best
at fly-fishing. Perhaps I ought to be a little more honest; I had a long
ways to go to even make it out of the bottom twenty-five percent of fly
fisherman.  I could catch my ear real well, but fish, well that was another
matter.  Still, it would be fun to try and maybe my ear would be safe as I
had only caught it once.  I had a much better record of catching limbs on
trees behind me and the only thing I can say in favor of fly-fishing is
there seems to be fewer backlashes on the reel.  I did much better with
spinning rigs, but Danny had mine.

	When we got to the gate I unlocked it and Vern took over the
driving and pulled on through, followed by Kath in the Gator.  I locked the
gate back up and was pleased to note there were no other tracks so it
looked like we'd have the place to ourselves.  Dawn was just starting to
break so by the time we got there and got our gear out it should be light
enough to see what we were doing.

	Having to cut a small tree out of the road delayed us about ten
minutes, so it was plenty light by the time we got there.  It didn't take
long for JJ and me to gather up our gear and start hiking.  Twenty minutes
later we were at one of the prettiest little lakes in the world.  It was
about three eighths of a mile long and perhaps a little less than three
hundred yards in the widest place.  It was shaped in a sort of C and there
was a place where a point stuck out and you could stand in the middle of
that point and fish on either side.  You had to be a little careful as
there were some old sunken trees you could snag your gear on, but all in
all it was a really nice little lake to fish.  It just looked spectacular
with some mist gently rising above it and the sun peeking through the trees
and setting it off and making everything sparkle.  I'd always had good luck
fishing the downstream side of the point, so we headed there.  I figured
I'd let JJ get started and them move a little further downstream and see
what I could do.  We could have fished the upstream side of the point, but
the fish were smaller on that side in my experience.  I was hoping the JJ
would be able to catch a few really nice sized trout.

	That isn't quite how it worked.  I'd thought that JJ knew more
about fishing from what he'd said, but that wasn't the case.  I had to
start from scratch and show him everything, like how to tie the knots to
attach the lures through how to control his casts a little better.  Even
with all that it went pretty fast, and soon he was managing to cast
somewhat in the direction he wanted to.  A little more work and I got him
to slow down his retrieve and allow the lure to do more than skip atop the
water.

	I was just about to gather up my gear and go do a little fishing
myself when on one of JJ's retrieves a nice trout followed the lure almost
out of the water and JJ was all excited.  So I stayed and encouraged him a
few minutes more.  Two casts later he had a strike, but missed it.  There
were a few bugs flying over the lake and a few fish jumping so I was eager
to see if I could manage to get a fly out there, but suddenly it was much
more important to see that JJ caught a fish, and two casts later he hooked
a nice one.

	He did about everything as wrong as possible, but he didn't lose
the fish.  His eyes were just sparkling when I finally took the net and
gently scooped his prize out of the water.  It was a really nice fat brown
trout about thirteen inches long. While not the biggest in the world, it
was a nice eating size.  I found out that it was JJ's first fish all by
himself.  The only other fish he had ever caught, or rather landed, was one
his Dad had hooked and then handed the pole to him.

	I had to have a few pictures so I got out my 35 millimeter and
snapped away.  JJ was beaming and holding his fish up while I did so and he
was so proud of his trout that I decided I didn't need to fish for a while.
There are lots of things more important in life than catching fish and
helping JJ have fun was one of them.  He was having such a good time I
couldn't help but grin along with him.  There's something about a happy kid
that makes the day much brighter.

	It took him three more casts to hook another and this time it was a
bigger fish.  JJ had calmed down a little and did a slightly better job of
following directions, but even so he finally lost it.  He worked it in
close enough to get a glimpse of it, and then it was gone.  My guess is
that it would have gone close to twenty inches but it's hard to tell with
such a quick look.

	JJ was getting better at controlling his casts so he was coming a
lot closer to the little area where the fish frequently hung out.  There
must have been a little eddy under water which they liked and I had almost
always been successful fishing that spot.  The next cast landed about
perfectly and sure enough, about halfway through his retrieve he hooked
another one and I was once again trying to get him to stop yanking on the
rod.

	This time the way the rod tip was doubled over led me to believe he
had hooked a much bigger fish.  Suddenly, the fish jumped and there was no
longer any doubt of its size.  It was a big one for these waters.

	Seeing how big it was really excited JJ.  He was shouting at me and
asking if I had seen it, all the while grinning and trying to keep his rod
upright.  I managed to snap another picture or two while he was fighting
it, and then it broke the leader and was gone.  He was using pretty light
gear as I hadn't expected him to hook one quite that big.  It would have
probably gone around two feet had he landed it.  The biggest one I'd ever
caught in these waters was twenty-five inches and most were less than
eighteen inches, but they were good eating and lots of fun to catch.

	I had so much chatter coming at me that it was hard to get another
lure tied on the end of the line, but soon JJ was once again ready to make
another cast.  Over the next fifteen minutes he missed several strikes, but
then he hooked another.  It appeared to be a lot bigger than his first
fish, but not nearly as big as the last one he'd hooked and with me
coaching him he finally wore it out and we got it landed.  It was a lovely
brown trout of about eighteen inches.  By now his grin was so big I was
reminded of sharks from all the teeth showing.  In all the time I'd been
around him I'd never seen him this happy.  He was positively vibrating with
excitement and joy.

	"Having fun?" I asked.

	"Freakin awesome, just freakin awesome," JJ replied, almost
shouting.  The way he was grinning I was surprised he could form any words
as his lips were stretched so tight.

	The next couple of fish he hooked were pretty small so we carefully
removed the hook and released them.  Then things seemed to slow down in
that area.  After a while we walked up to the head of the lake and JJ tried
his luck there.  On the fifth cast he hooked a rainbow and after about five
minutes another trout was landed.  This was a fifteen-inch rainbow which
had put on a nice show by doing a little walking on the water.  Seeing the
fish in the air while trying to throw the hook had almost caused JJ to come
unglued from excitement.  That fish had been a real fighter and JJ was now
shaking he was so excited.  Compared to today, Disneyland was a distant
second on JJ's list of fun and exciting things to do.  He was like a four
year old at Christmas and jabbering and gesturing a mile a minute.

	Finally it looked like JJ was capable of doing a little fishing on
his own so I got out my fly rod and started in.  A little ways above the
lake there was a little eddy in the stream that fed it so I hiked up there
and immediately hooked a limb on my backcast.  I heard some snickering and
looked around and JJ had followed me.

	"I thought you were going to continue fishing down in the lake?" I
asked.

	"I didn't want you to have better fishing than I did," he grinned
at me.  "Besides, it was fun to hear you cussing the tree.  You keep
telling us not to cuss."

	He had me because I had been muttering some curse words at the tree
and I did keep telling them that curse words are used by people who don't
know how to express themselves.  There was only one option left to me.  I
changed the subject.

	"You think you can do better?" I asked him.

	"Sure," he replied, his grin getting even bigger which I didn't
think was possible.

	"As soon as I get this thing loose you can try.  Then we'll see how
well you do Mr. Smarty Pants."

	JJ just kept grinning at me and it didn't take long until I had the
fly free from the limb.  His first few tries didn't do much; in fact he
didn't even manage to get the line wet.

	"This is hard," he complained.

	"You were the one who was doing the giggling," I reminded him.

	Finally he managed to get the fly to sail a few feet downstream.  I
can only think it must have landed near a starving trout because a more
inelegant presentation of a fly it had never been my misfortune to see, but
danged if a poor hungry trout didn't jump at the chance to take that fly.
I'm not sure the fly even made it to the water before that trout gobbled it
up.

	We were both soaked to the knees before we finally captured that
poor fish.  Actually it was a pretty nice brown trout of about sixteen
inches and it certainly didn't look like it was starving; in fact it looked
pretty fat to me.  JJ wasn't used to the fly reel and it was a good thing
the stream wasn't deeper or more of us would have gotten wet.  Since the
stream was only about knee deep in the area we were fishing, at least our
asses had stayed dry.  We had to chase the fish downstream almost to the
lake before JJ finally got things somewhat under control.

	"This is fun!" he shouted.

	"I'm right beside you, you don't have to shout."  Those words just
sailed right over his head and he didn't lower his voice one bit.  I could
see that I was going to have to get waders for all of us if we continued
fishing.  Oh well, athletic shoes will dry if you throw them in the dryer.
They do thump a bit, but the dryer was downstairs and would be hard to
hear.  You don't have to put them in the dryer, but it is a much faster way
to dry them than just letting them air day.

	I suspected our stumbling down the creek had chased most of the
fish off, so I wasn't surprised when we had little luck as we continued
fishing.  Slowly JJ got to where he could cast the fly setup, but he was
even worse than I was and he soon gave up and decided that he would go back
to his spinning rig.

	I gave up doing any fishing for a while, and instead helped JJ pick
out another place to try his luck.  It yielded a couple of fish in the
eight to ten inch range, which we released.  After the ones he'd caught he
wanted nothing to do with the littler ones.  We moved over to another spot
and tried some more.  That spot produced nothing, not even a strike.  By
now we'd been at it for a couple of hours so I decided to try a different
technique and we moved to an area where the water was a little deeper.
After I explained that he needed to give his lure a few extra seconds to
sink closer to the bottom, he once again started in.  His casting was
improving and he was managing to get his lure to travel quite a distance.
It wasn't long before he had a good strike, but failed to hook the fish.
Then he missed another, and still another.  He was starting to get a little
frustrated over all his misses when he finally hooked another fish.
Immediately his grin was back and this time he was much calmer as he fought
it and soon he landed another keeper.

	About that time Corey came hiking up the trail with a full thermos
of hot coffee and Dog in hot pursuit.  While I sipped a cup of coffee,
Corey listened to JJ brag about his fishing.  Nothing would do but for
Corey to take a few pictures with the digital camera, so he got it out and
started in.  I think the best one was when he posed JJ so he was standing
with the toes of one foot on one of the trout, somewhat like the pictures
you see of the trophy hunters, and he had one arm curled up flexing his
bicep while the other was holding the fishing rod over his shoulder like a
soldier might carry a rifle.  Corey was kidding him about being the mighty
trout hunter and JJ was grinning and just eating it up.  My second favorite
one was when JJ had the butt of the fishing pole against his shoulder as if
holding a rifle and was pointing it at one of the trout like he was going
to shoot it with the pole.  JJ finally quit clowning around and the two
boys joined me and they each had a can of pop while I finished my coffee.

	"How's the fishing going down below?" I asked Corey.

	He started snickering.  "Mark's a little on the wild side and
caught Kath, and the last I saw Danny had fallen in."

	"What do mean caught Kath?" I asked.

	"He snagged her coat when he tried to cast.  Stay away from him,
he's dangerous.  So far he's caught Kath and several limbs."

	"Has he caught any fish?"

	"Yeah, he got one of them too.  That's when Danny fell in trying to
help him land it.  I've got pictures of the whole thing.  I decided I'd
better get out of there before he caught me," Corey giggled in reply.  "I
thought I'd be safer up here.  Even Dog doesn't think its safe around
Mark."

	I wondered how Vern was coping with what sounded like a handful of
real wild fisherman.  Before I could ask anything else, Corey continued.

	"Fred and Mike took off for the lower lake so they wouldn't get
snagged by Mark, and Nancy walked across the log, so she's on the other
side and pretty safe unless he learns how to cast further."  He giggled
some more and then added, "LT and Kyle are just ducking, and hoping, and
hoping, and ducking."  Corey had a smug look on his face over his little
witticism.  It was a terrible play on an old song and he wasn't even on
key.  I was going to have to lock Dad's old record collection up if he kept
coming up with things like that.

	"Eww," JJ said, "That's sick."

	I had to agree with JJ.  It was more than a little sick.  I
wondered what Dusty Springfield would think hearing the lyrics to "Wishing
and Hoping" so badly massacred.  Corey had the timing of the song about
right even if he was so far off key it hilarious.  I wasn't surprised about
him being off key since Corey couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid
on it.  He had a decent voice, but he was always searching for the right
note and rarely finding it.

	"Well did you catch any fish?" I asked.

	"No," he grinned.  "It's more fun taking pictures.  You're going to
have to get a camera with a longer zoom though.  It isn't safe getting
close enough to Mark to get good ones."

	"You haven't caught any fish yet?" JJ asked sounding almost
incredulous.  Corey just shook his head.

	After that JJ was all charged up about helping Corey catch some
fish.  He was suddenly the expert fishing guide.  I snickered to myself
about what catching a few fish had done for JJ.  Corey didn't stand a
chance as JJ soon had him back where we'd started and was telling him just
where to cast and how to do it.  I just waited with the 35 and finally
Corey hooked one.

	I don't know who was the proudest, Corey for catching the fish, or
JJ for helping him.  I got a bunch more pictures and had now used up my
second roll of film.  After a while with no bites, they decided to go back
up to where JJ had tried the fly rod.  When they took off I decided to try
a little fishing myself.  Dog stayed with me.

	Where the lake turned back into a stream at the downstream end
there was a little area which I felt might produce a couple of fish.  I
walked down to it and after a few tries managed to get the fly to go about
where I wanted it to go.  A few casts later I hooked a nice rainbow and he
gave me a good fight.  He was about seventeen inches and nice and fat.  A
few more casts and I hooked another one.  That one broke the leader and
took off so I dug out another fly and tried again.

	Some flies just like tree limbs.  It's almost as if they were made
expressly for the purpose of catching trees and they are not happy unless
they hook the nearest limb.  The new fly was of that type.  While the area
was cramped, I hadn't had much trouble with the old fly, but not so with
the new one.  No matter what technique I tried, it still managed to find
the tree.  After getting my fly caught for the fourth consecutive time I
decided I needed to try a different spot, either that or switch flies and I
didn't want to do that since this was the last dark stone nymph I had.  I
used Dad's old fly rod so seldom that I didn't have a very good selection
and the nymph was proving pretty successful so far.  Since my feet were
already wet I waded across the creek.  Dog stood looking at the water and
barking at me for leaving him behind.  After I coaxed him long enough he
jumped in and soon was shaking water all over me.  After he had me pretty
well soaked, we hiked a third of the way towards the head of the lake to
another area I thought might produce a strike or two.  At least I had a
little more room to cast.  It was an area where spinning gear didn't work
very well except for the company making lures as there must have been some
trees under water which ate lures.  Since it normally produced some fish I
thought it worth a try and I was right, it did produce fish.  Five casts
produced two nice fat Browns and about that time the boys appeared at the
head of the lake.  Corey held his catch up and it looked like he had two
more nice ones.  I glanced at my watch and decided to make a couple more
casts before meeting the boys and then walking back down and having lunch.
I didn't know where the time had gone, but it was almost noon.

	The boys were almost across from me when I made the second cast.
The fly settled on the surface of the water and I waited a few seconds and
then gave a twitch or two with the pole.  That must have angered a very
large trout, or perhaps he was very hungry and thought lunch was getting
away because there was a boil in the water and the fly was gone.  I never
even got much of a glimpse of the fish, but my rod doubled over and
suddenly I knew I had a real battle on my hands.  The fish stripped off
most of the line before I turned him, but now I was faced with getting him
landed without letting him get tangled up in the underwater trees.  The
fish had gone down lake, so I started wading after him and soon was wet
clear up to my armpits.  Dang that water was cold.  Dog was going nuts on
the bank, barking and running down and sticking a foot in the water and
then retreating and barking some more.  I was having a real problem as I
had to try to keep the line tight and hold the camera out of the water at
the same time, but I finally got to a place where I could get back out of
the lake and quit worrying about getting the camera wet.  I started to
climb out about the time Dog decided to swim on down to me, so about the
time I was up on the bank Dog was once again shaking water all over me as
if I was not wet enough to start with.

	Just when I thought things were getting under control, the fish
made another run and again it went down lake.  I left the camera on the
bank this time and started wading after the fish again.  Once again there
was much barking from Dog, but he was a little smarter and just stayed up
on the bank and followed along.  I don't know if the water had warmed up or
if I was getting numb, but it didn't seem as cold to me this time.

	Mr. Trout was not cooperating in the least.  Every time I would
gain a little line, he would take it back and we kept working our way down
the lake.  I finally thought I'd caught him just above the outfall when I
got him within about twenty feet of me, but he made one last run and made
it into the stream and then the leader broke and he was gone.  I'd caught a
few glimpses of him and he was the biggest trout I'd ever hooked.  He
looked almost as big as a salmon.  Even though I hadn't landed him, it had
been a fun fight.  I'd seen a couple of 10-pounders caught in the
Sacramento River and Mr. Trout looked to be about that size.  He looked
huge.  I'd never seen any trout that big in these waters.  I knew I could
have landed him had I used heavier leaders, but that took some of the sport
out of it.

	I squished my way back up and picked up the camera.  A few minutes
later we were headed down to have lunch.  The three of us had eleven fish
plus we'd released some.  It had been a good morning for fishing.

	As JJ and I squished along towards the middle lake, Corey kept
giggling at us.  How he managed to stay dry I'll never know.  JJ now had a
wet backside so he must have slipped and sat down in the water, and of
course I was mostly wet.  Dog was probably the wettest of us as he had even
managed to get his head wet.  It was a good thing I had insisted that
everyone leave their valuables in the vehicles as it's a real pain drying
out everything in your billfold.

	The boys had been a little skeptical when I insisted on them
packing some dry clothes to bring along, but they saw the wisdom of that
after JJ and I changed into dry clothes and shoes as soon as we made it
back to the vehicles.  I thought Corey was going to laugh himself to death
when he happened to see me as I was changing my shorts.  All I can say is
"Junior" doesn't like water which is as cold as that which he'd been
subjected to this morning.

	After JJ and I got our clothes changed we walked over to the area
where Mark, Danny, and Vern were fishing.  Across the lake I could see Kath
and Nancy and as I was watching Nancy hooked a fish and got busy fighting
it.  I swear I never have the right lens on the camera.  I had been using
my 24 to 40 mm wide angle and now I needed something longer.  By the time I
trotted back and grabbed the 80 to 200, Nancy had landed the fish and all I
got was a picture of her holding it up.  It looked like it went close to
twenty inches.

	It didn't take long to tell Corey was about right in his
description of Mark's casting ability.  He was trying to cast too far and
was losing control and that meant the lure never went where he wanted it
too.  I could see I needed to work with him a little.  I headed on over to
him.

	"How's it going?" was my opening gambit.

	"I got two," he almost beamed.  "I'm not very good at casting.  No
one will fish close to me," he continued, no longer beaming.

	"Well, let's see if I can help you a little.  Do you remember me
telling the baseball team they needed to be under control when swinging the
bat?"  He nodded.  "Do you also remember me saying that they were better
off to just hit the ball and not try to kill it?"  Another nod.  "I think
you're casting like you are trying to kill the rod and lure.  Try not to
cast so far and just pick out an area a little closer and try to hit it."

	It took more than that, but after a few minutes he was starting to
do a little better.  It also helped when I pointed out a little area not
very far out in the lake and told him to cast in it because there likely
were fish there.  He did and got a strike the first time he came close to
it, but failed to set the hook.  I then explained that you rarely needed to
be able to cast long distances, but rather needed to be able to cast
accurately as fish tend to like certain spots and the trick is to learn to
hit those spots and not just try for distance.  He made another try and
again hit the spot, but when he got a strike this time he managed to set
the hook.  It was a nice sixteen-inch rainbow and a beaming boy I got a
picture of a couple of minutes later.

	When I looked around the women were walking up the lake towards the
log and Kyle, who had been fishing the outlet, was headed up towards us
too.  I somehow got the impression that they were coming in for lunch.

	That meant someone had to start a fire and warm the beans and cook
some fish.  The beans were nothing more than some canned baked beans with
some diced onion and a little barbecue sauce in them so all they had to do
was get hot enough to cook the onion.  As for the fish, first we had to
pick out and clean the ones we'd eat and then cook them.  I had brought
along some charcoal because that made it easier to get a good cooking fire
in less time, so I sent the boys closest to me out to get some sticks to
start the fire with.  Good Lord, I wanted some little sticks to build a
fire and the boys brought back limbs big enough to almost be called logs.
When we got that straightened out I soon had all the small limbs I could
use and it didn't take long to get a small fire started.  In fact, if I'd
used all limbs they brought back it would have looked like a forest fire.
I could only surmise they were hungry.  I was also a little surprised at
the trout each boy picked out for his meal.  I suppose I shouldn't have
been, but each boy picked the biggest fish he had caught and I didn't think
any of them could eat that much.  My gentle hints that perhaps they were
being a little ambitious in their selections met with no movement on their
parts.  Even when I pointed out that there were beans and potato salad, it
did no good.  I could only shake my head as I was soon cleaning fish that
were easily big enough to serve two people.  The fire was doing pretty well
so we took a few rocks and placed around it and put the old piece of
crusher screen on top of the rocks.  Then on went the old cast-iron Dutch
oven that I used for campfires and it was clear full of beans. Vern had the
enameled coffee pot ready to go so he set that alongside the Dutch oven and
it was now time to get the fish ready to cook.

	Our now cleaned and headless trout had a little flavored butter
rubbed on and in them and they were placed on a layer of onion on some
buttered foil.  A couple of thin slices of lemon went in the body cavity
along with some salt and pepper.  Then another layer of onions on top and
the foil was wrapped around the whole mess and the seams were double
folded.  The onions would keep the trout from burning and the butter had a
little garlic, fresh basil, fresh parsley, and some cilantro in it.  By the
time all the trout were ready to cook, the beans were starting to steam.
As thick as the trout were, the beans should be done by the time the trout
were cooked so on the screen they went.  Every few minutes we could turn
the trout and they should be done in a half hour or so.  I wished it was a
little later in the year so we could have had some corn on the cob to add
to the meal, but with the size of fish each boy had picked out they
wouldn't have had room for it anyway.  I did keep the adults' trout back
for a while because we'd all picked much smaller ones and they would cook
in far less time.  After the boys' trout had been cooking for a while, I
put the rest of the trout on the screen along with the garlic bread.  The
beans were now bubbling nicely and needed to be stirred quite often to keep
the bottom from burning, but I had no shortage of boy help for that
project.  In fact I thought they might wear the foil out from turning their
fish so often even though I had double wrapped each fish.  Finally I pulled
a package and checked for doneness.  Not quite so I wrapped it up and put
it back on the screen.  A few minutes later it was time to eat.

	Nancy and Kath had outdone themselves.  The potato salad was
excellent, and each of the boys must have inhaled three or four of the
deviled eggs Nancy had made.  They had come up with just the right amount
of barbecue sauce to add to the beans and the garlic bread had plenty of
parmesan cheese along with lots of butter and garlic.  We all pigged out.
There is just something about eating around a campfire that increases the
appetite.

	The boys gave it their all.  They really tried, but the trout were
simply too much for them.  The only one who came close was Mike and he had
picked a slightly smaller one from his catch.  Both Fred and Mike had each
caught their limit so they each had five fish to choose from and Mike,
having done this more often and being more mature, was more realistic in
his judgment of how much he could eat.  JJ had picked his 18-incher and he
only managed to get about half of it eaten before he slowly stopped eating.
I'd picked the smallest one I'd kept and it was more than enough.  In fact
no one managed to eat all their fish.  A bunch of those we had released
would have been just the right size to eat, but the boys had wanted the big
ones, and for that matter so did I.  Thank God I hadn't planned on frying
them.  I would have been frying fish till dark in order to get then all
cooked since I didn't have a frying pan big enough for more than about one
fish at a time, and then it would have needed to be cut into two pieces to
fit they were so big.

	As we were eating we were talking about how good the fishing was.
That was when Nancy asked me how I had managed to get a key to the property
as everyone knew that Mr. Bledsoe had all his property gated and allowed no
hunting and fishing.

	"Easy," I replied.  "I tutored his youngest daughter for about
three months and got to know him pretty well.  The key is one of the little
perks I got for doing it."

	"I never asked, but is your key only good for this gate?" Vern
asked.

	"No, I've got a master key and can get onto any of his timber
holdings.  There are several other places which are great fishing, but this
one's the closest.  This one also normally produces the biggest fish."

	"God, I remember fishing here when I was a kid.  Since the gates
went up, the fishing's a lot better.  We never caught fish this big when I
was a kid," Vern said.  "It always was good for a few fish, but nothing
like today.  Each summer my folks used to take us camping on weekends and
this was one of the places we'd stay because of the fishing.  Dad would
pitch the tent about twenty feet from where the fire is and we'd stay from
Friday night till Sunday evening.  My brothers and I spent a lot of time
fishing and swimming here.  I felt bad when the gates were put in about
fifteen years ago, but I could understand why he did it."

	"Why's he keep all the gates locked?" Corey asked.

	I hadn't thought about it before, but Corey wouldn't know about
things like timber companies having to have gates and the problems they had
when they didn't.

	"Well Corey, Mr. Bledsoe keeps the gates locked because some people
destroyed his logging equipment.  They shot holes in it and stole anything
they could.  Other times they sabotaged it.  He used to let people fish and
hunt on his property, but the cost got so high he quit.  He told me that
one hunting season it cost him over a hundred thousand dollars just to
repair equipment and that didn't count the lost time and production."

	"Why'd they do that?"

	"Who knows?  Some people hate logging and so try to make it too
expensive.  They seem to think that by doing so the earth will be better
off.  Yet I'll bet they use lots of timber products.  They forget that
trees are just another crop.  Sure trees grow a little slower than most
crops, but trees are no different than corn or cotton.  I think maybe some
of them worship trees or something like that.  There are even groups that
go around and set fire to equipment which can be used in logging.  Up in
Oregon some group set a sawmill on fire and another time they burned a
bunch of logging trucks.  They get mad that everyone doesn't think we
should stop logging and share their view that trees should be left alone to
do whatever it is trees do.  They try to force their will on others much
like any other terrorist.  Really, they are little different than the
terrorists who hijacked the planes and flew them into the World Trade
Center towers.  In a free country, anytime you step outside the law and try
to force your beliefs on others through violence you are nothing more than
a terrorist.  If you can't make a good enough argument to convince people,
then maybe something's wrong with your arguments or position.

      "Other's do it because they're jealous and don't want anyone to have
more than they have.  They never stop to realize that they too can be
successful if they work at it, but instead they think that successful
businessmen must have cheated to make money.  They just can't seem to
accept that some people work hard and make lots of money while they can't
seem to do so.

         "Still others probably think he did something that was mean to
them, things like fire someone who wasn't doing a good job.  They never
realize that had they been good employees, they wouldn't have been fired.
There are probably lots of other reasons, but those are a few."

	"But that's dumb," LT said.

	"I didn't say those people were smart, only that I think those are
some of the reasons people do things like that."

	"Sam's right LT.  One person, who was caught after shooting up a
yarder, said he did it because he was fired.  I know him and he was fired
for getting drunk and not showing up for work," Vern said, sticking his oar
in.  "He wouldn't accept that he was fired because of being drunk and
missing work, but insisted it was because Mr. Bledsoe didn't like him."

	"What's a yarder or whatever you called it?" Corey asked Vern.

	"A yarder is a machine with winches on it to drag logs up to a
place where they can be loaded on trucks.  You know what a winch is, don't
you?"

	"Yeah, they're spool thingies that turn and you wrap a rope around
them," Corey replied.

	"Right.  A yarder has several of the spool thingies, called drums,
and loggers use cable instead of rope.  Cable is just a metal form of
rope."

	As Vern continued his explanation of yarders, even I was
interested.  I'd seen a few but never understood just how they worked.  He
explained that there was a big drum, or mainline drum which held bigger
cable and was used to drag the logs towards the machine, and there was a
smaller drum called the haulback drum which had somewhat smaller cable and
was used to drag the bigger cable back out to where the trees were and
where the two cables joined were some hunks of iron called butt rigging
which had short pieces of cable attached to it called chokers and the other
end of the choker was hooked around a log.  There were some pulleys, called
blocks, which were placed as far from the yarder as they wanted to reach
for logs and the smaller cable went through the pulleys and was hooked to
the butt rigging joining the two cables together.  He went on to explain
about towers which held the lines or cables up in the air and helped by
creating a lift so the logs slid easier.  I was sure the rest of the Garvin
family knew all about such things, but I didn't, and I doubted that any of
my boys or the Graves' did.  Maybe sometime during the summer we could go
watch a logging operation in operation since the boys all seemed fascinated
by Vern's explanation.  For that matter it piqued my interest well.  Vern
had done a great job of explaining and had even drawn some diagrams in the
dirt to show how it all worked.

	The conversation drifted on to tomorrow.  The boys, all except for
Danny, wanted to go fishing again, but Danny couldn't make up his mind
whether he wanted to fish or go trap shooting.  Kath surprised me by voting
to go shooting, but in the end we decided to give fishing another go.  I
think the fishing won out because the trout tasted so good.  We even
decided where to go and the spot we picked out would only take about
fifteen minutes more driving time to get to, and was another series of
small lakes located along a bigger stream.  There would be no wading across
that stream, but there was a bridge across it between two of the lakes so
we could fish either side we wished although the one side would require a
lot of hiking.  I'd always had good luck fishing the side the main road ran
along and had only fished the other side a couple of times.  Either side
was good so if Mark got too dangerous we could put him on one side and the
rest of us on the other so we'd be safe.

	Trust my little thinking machines.  As soon as we finished eating
they immediately counted the remaining trout and figured out we could now
catch some more as we were each allowed five.  I'm not sure that was what
the game department had in mind when they printed their regulations, but no
matter what I said they didn't seem to listen and soon they were headed out
for more fishing.  It didn't help that Vern and his boys agreed with them.
As Fred said, it would be mighty difficult for the game warden to count the
trout in his belly.  By now I was pretty well warmed up again so I spent
the afternoon helping the boys fish.

	Fishing really slowed down in the afternoon.  The fish were not
nearly as eager to bite and the boys never did manage to fill all our
limits.  They did eat the rest of their fish, with some help from Dog, as
an afternoon snack so maybe they knew what they were doing when they picked
out such big trout after all.  I doubted that they would be very hungry for
dinner tonight.  Dog was much smarter than the boys and just spent the
afternoon close to the fire.  I hadn't brought enough towels to completely
dry him, but by the time we left for home only a few patches of his fur
were still damp.

	The trip back to town was pretty quiet.  About the only thing of
note was when I asked what we should have for dinner and the boys decided
on take and bake pizza from Downies.  They weren't nearly as good as the
ones from Italian Surprise, but they weren't bad.  I wasn't in the mood to
cook so I went along with them.  When we dropped the Garvins off I told
Kath what the boys had decided and she took the rest of the boys and went
on home while Corey and I headed for Downie's.  I also sorted out a couple
of bunches of trout, one for the Downies, and one for Rob or Chuck and the
kids.

	I made a hit with Ellen when I handed her the trout.  We had to
spend a few minutes telling her all about the fishing trip, and Corey had
to go get the digital camera and let her look at some of the pictures he'd
taken.

	Rob happened to be the one working so he was the one who got the
fish and he also handed me a big sack filled with bones for beef stock.
That had slipped my mind, but not Rob's.  We visited a few minutes and then
I figured the deli department probably had our pizzas ready so I left.
Somehow I had acquired most of a shopping cart full of things by the time I
picked up the pizzas, but it was far less than my usual shopping trips.  I
did pick up a big package of chicken thighs to take along tomorrow and some
different beans so there was a little more variety, but mostly it was items
we were getting low on like milk and that sort of stuff.  Corey had thrown
in a few bags of chips when I wasn't looking, but he hadn't gone overboard.
I was starting to check out when my cell phone rang and Kath reminded me we
needed some more French bread for tomorrow so Corey dashed over and grabbed
three loaves.

	The stock bones went in the spare fridge in the garage as I wasn't
up to working on them tonight, and the rest was soon packed into the house.
Kath gathered up all the wet shoes and headed downstairs to run them
through the dryer while I started in on the trout with the FoodSaver.  Even
though my gang seemed almost bottomless, we still had enough trout for
several meals by the time they were packaged and in the freezer.

	Kath's leg must have been getting pretty tired, because when she
got back upstairs she just sat down and didn't offer any help.  She was
limping quite badly and I saw her get out a pill bottle and take a dose of
her pain pills.  I got to thinking and sent the boys out to load the
folding lawn chairs we used with the trailer in the pickup.  At least she
could have a place to sit and rest her leg a little tomorrow.

	The pizzas weren't bad, but the boys didn't attack with their usual
vigor.  Even Dog didn't beg a lot and was satisfied with only a few bites.
After that he went and found his favorite couch and flaked out.  I think he
had attempted to sniff and mark every tree and he was worn out.  Of the
boys, JJ looked all in and the rest were almost as bad.  I boiled some eggs
after dinner for more deviled eggs, and there had been enough potato salad
left for another meal so there wasn't that much that had to be done.  I
managed to talk the boys into peeling the eggs while I threw the chicken
thighs in some marinade and bagged the whole mess up.  I'd even taken a
chance and grabbed some ears of corn at the market, but I really questioned
how good they would be.  I knew they were flown in from South America which
meant they were not nearly as fresh as I liked, but hopefully they would be
edible.  By the time I had everything in the ice chest and ready to go for
the morning, I was beat.  I was more than happy to stagger off to bed and
snuggle up with Corey and fall asleep.  It had been a long and busy day.

			To be continued...


	Yarder logging is not as common as it once was, but is still widely
used especially in areas where there is big timber or erosion is a problem.
In harvesting smaller timber there are now machines which move to the tree
and then grasp it and cut it off and then lay it down rather than the older
practice of felling it with chainsaws.  Other machines pick up the trees
and carry them to the road.  In areas where the ground is too steep to
permit that, yarders are still in use.  Log skidders and helicopters are
also used to harvest trees among other methods.  Trees have been harvested
with everything from manpower through elephant power to various mechanical
machines.

	In times past, after the days of horse logging that is, most of the
yarding was done with a standard yarder which has three drums, a mainline
drum, a haulback drum, and one called a haywire or strawline drum.  The
haywire or strawline was used to make or move the layout to the next strip
of felled timber and was much lighter than the other two lines.  Depending
upon many things, the mainline commonly ranges from 5/8 inch to 1-1/2 inches
and the haulback would be smaller, like from 1/2 inch to 1 inch.  Haywire
commonly ranged from 1/4 inch to 7/16 inch in diameter.  The last big yarder
I was around used 1-1/4 inch mainline, 7/8 inch haulback, and 7/16 inch
haywire.  The drums on it would spool about 2300 feet of mainline, 5000
feet of haulback, and I have no idea how much haywire, but a bunch.  I
suspect around ten thousand feet.  Most of the yarders in my area now are
smaller and use smaller lines since there is not nearly as much big timber
to harvest.

	If you are interested you can Google things like high lead logging,
skyline logging, and skidder logging and can read quite a bit and see some
good pictures on logging practices.  If you just want to read a little, a
fairly good site is this one: http://www.vannattabros.com/histlog.html

	Logging is like a lot of other subjects; you can spend a
considerable amount of time learning about the various systems of rigging
and equipment used to log.  Today there are a lot more skyline yarders in
use than straight yarders.  As the timber has gotten smaller the loggers
have changed the type and size of machines.  When I was hauling logs, many
years ago, the standard was a straight yarder to bring the logs to a
landing and a cable shovel with a grapple and a heel boom to load them.
Now the cable shovels have given way to hydraulically operated shovels
since they are for the most part faster and require less skill to operate.
When there were fewer logs required for a load, time wasn't as big a
factor, but with the harvesting of smaller logs it has become one.  I've
hauled one log loads and I've hauled loads which consisted of around one
hundred and thirty logs.  My truck could haul 27 net tons and still be
legal for weight.  Loads of only one log and loads consisting of more than
one hundred logs were not very common when I was hauling, and the normal
loads I hauled ran from about six logs to sixty logs.  Board footage ran
from around three thousand board feet to the biggest load I ever hauled
which had thirteen thousand two hundred and forty board feet.  A board foot
is a board twelve inches wide by twelve inches long by one inch thick, or
144 cubic inches.  As it is sold today, that isn't quite true.  The twelve
inch wide board is now eleven and a half inches wide and three quarters of
an inch thick.  So your common 2 by 6 is 1-1/2 by 5-1/2 and would still
represent one board foot for every foot of length even though it only
measures 99 cubic inches in volume.  Now you know more about logging and
boards than you ever wanted to know.