They slowly made their approach, and with the nod of his head, Bow signaled Cody to make the first cast. Bow looked on not knowing what to expect, when a flash of gold came from the depths. Cody's line went tight, his reel whined, and his rod bent in a beautiful arch: the first fish was on. The fight was kept deep until Cody was able to get his line over a submerged log. He was rewarded with a beautiful golden cutthroat, looking as though it had never been caught before. With two big grins and a high five, they crept down to the next bend. Bow unhooked his leech and made a long cast, letting the fly sink. Three small strips later he felt the rod jerk from his hands as a Cutt came from below. Bow fought the fish to the shallows only to see three others following close behind. Cody and Bow looked at each other, wondering how many fish could populate such a small stream. From there they leap-frogged each bend, pulling out eager Cutts with each cast. The sun was almost set, so they headed back up looking forward to warm tents and a calm night.
Bow woke up with the hair standing on the back of his neck. Still pitch black outside, he looked out and saw five large, black objects surrounding the campsite. They weren't making any movement, but Bow wasn't any less tense. After several, eternal minutes, one of the black objects inched closer to his tent. Bow reached for his knife and calmly woke up his girl next to him. Quieting her whimpers, he assured her things would be fine. Ready to unzip and scare whatever was outside, a familiar smell hit him. Something very similar to manure wafted through the tent, confusing yet comforting Bow at the same time. The large black object revealed itself to be none other than a dairy cow. Bow unclenched his knife, and laughed a little as he caught his breath. And although taking the better part of an hour, he was able to fall back asleep for the night.
The next day came with much anticipation as Cody and Bow rigged up for round two. Despite the warm weather the previous day, there had been rain, and frost on the tents as they woke up. Undeterred, they rigged up and made a game plan. Giving the original stretch a break, they headed upstream and split the radios with the girls. The same promise of downstream held true on the venture up: every hole filled with Cutt after Cutt. They neared the end of a fishable section when static started through the radio. Muffled cries came through, and Cody made out the word "moose". Realizing the seriousness of the situation, they reeled up and ran back down to camp. The girls were huddled behind a tree, but there was nothing else around. Looking at the them perturbed, Bow asked why they were crying. They pointed to the ground, then the creek. Two sets of large moose tracks ran through the campsite not two feet from the fire pit, and the creek was muddied right where they led. A bull moose and cow had been spooked from the gunfire and sprinted through as the girls were cooking. After things settled, the trout called Cody and Bow back upstream. Landing two more, they heard the girls again over the radio. Not hesitating, they ran back expecting to divert the attention of angry moose. When they came to the camp there were no moose, but instead a pacing black bear across the creek.
The bear seemed curious of what was cooking, rather than those cooking it. He wouldn't cross the creek, but made everyone afraid to even break eye contact. The bear became more restless, and Bow thought on any experience he might have with this situation. He knew black bears were generally skittish to aggresive behavior, and he remembered his girl brought her .380 just in case. He had Cody yell at the bear while he quietly made his way toward the tent. The bear stopped pacing, with a dead-lock on Cody. Bow hurried to ready the pistol and chamber a round. He took a few steps toward the creek, trying to fight the shake from his aim. As much as Bow didn't want to shoot a curious animal, he didn't want to be in the newspaper with his three friends. Steadying the barrel he took a few more steps to the waters edge, minimizing the number of shots necessary. When he and Cody made it to this point, the bear put it's head down, paused, and slowly backed away. There was no hurry, just a slow meander away from the creek, as if nothing happened. Shaking, Bow scanned the area, finally ejecting the round. After calming down, Cody and Bow decided to bring both gun and girls this time upstream.
They broke through the brush with a little more hesitancy, but the fear made the fishing that much more desirable. There were smaller holes and a few shallow riffles, but no possible honey holes in sight. They trekked over dead fall and through marsh, keeping an eye far downstream. Before long, they ended up in a small clearing with dark water and a beaver dam. The two looked at each other, knowing this hole would make the trip. Paying his respect, Bow again gave Cody first cast. Not two seconds into his retrieve, Cody had a jolting hit, but couldn't keep it pinned. A few more casts and an excited woop from Cody signaled a big fish. One of the most exciting 45 second periods of the trip, Bow did everything he could to direct the girls, aid Cody in the fight, and finally get a picture. The biggest smile Bow had ever seen from Cody happened as he held up a gorgeous, golden, kype-jawed Cutt. And despite a tinge of jealously, Bow was ecstatic to see this fish pulled out. Cody released the trout, watching it saunter back to its hole.
The two landed a few more fish, then headed back to camp before any animals joined them again. They were all a little wary when they broke down camp, even jumping when chipmunks scurried by. Mother nature gave Cody and Bow a reality check they would remember, embellish, and tell to all their friends. They would forever realize: wilderness is a lot closer than you think.
