Bright and early on a Monday morning, Sam and John climbed into the ol’ truck and headed out for another Canadian fishing adventure. This time to Caverhill Lake about 70 miles north of Kamloops British Columbia, to catch some record Kamloops (Rainbow) trout
Stopped in Kamloops for lunch, then on up the scenic North Thompson valley to the vicinity of Little Fort. Then the fun began. The instructions said to go approx 20 miles down a logging road, and were accompanied by a rather primitive map, which Sam ignored.
So, one half mile down the road we found ourselves in a cow pasture, complete with cows. Obviously a wrong turn, so after regrouping we headed down the right??, or was it the left?? road. The landmarks showed a vague resemblance to the markings on the map, which Sam was now studying with care, and after only a couple more wrong turns, and dodging innumerable logging trucks, we miraculously ended up in the parking lot by the lake, only about 15 minutes late.
Our co-host, Larry Loney, met us, grabbed all our gear in one carry, (He looked like a porter in Tokyo Station) and deposited gear and us in the lodge boat, where we got acquainted with Jake, the camp dog. A 10 minute boat ride got us to the lodge, where we were greeted by Marlene Loney, our charming co-host, and Larry deposited our gear in our cabin.
The cabin was cozy, had running, or should I say trickling, water, and that ubiquitous BC wilderness contraption, (like you heard about at Bare Lake), a composting toilet. For those of you who are not familiar, this is a formable piece of plumbing, about the size of a Bob Cat tractor, which you mount via steps or ladder, and perch precariously atop while doing what comes naturally. If they had these things in the States, the DOT would demand they be fitted with seat belts and an oxygen mask. Anyway, when done with your business, you scatter a scoop of peat moss over the whole disgusting mess, and replace the cover. Fortunately, an exploratory trip turned up a real flush toilet in the communal washhouse, so we gave the composting contraption a rest.
We hit the main lake in the afternoon and caught a few, but nothing spectacular. Dinner was served at 7 PM and we trooped into meet our fellow guests. Quite an interesting bunch. A dad and son from Vancouver WA, who were really nice guys. But son, inexplicably, did not try to put the make on the two young ladies working there. Then there was Chris, an OK guy from Washington State, and Dennis, a totally crazy Viet Nam vet, who lived in an old mobile home out in the woods on the Nevada California border near Bishop. Last but not least, were those three guys which we introduced you to at Bare Lake. All from the Seattle area. I happened to be wearing a tee shirt with the logo “People like you are what make people like me take medication” and told those jerks that it was particularly meant for them.After supper we joined our fellow guests in the lounge for tall tales and drinks. Problem was that Dennis (the Viet Nam vet), could tell “true” stories faster than Sam could make his up, so we retired to our cabin to enjoy a cigar and a beer on the porch, while we watched the sun set over the lake, and listened to the loons. Then it was time to turn in.
Cabin illumination consisted of one propane light over the beds, which was so dim that one actually had to light a match to see if it was burning. Thankfully we had flashlights and twilight lasted a couple of hours, but reading in bed was impossible. What the thing lacked in light output though it certainly made up for in heat. I think that it put out about 20 thousand BTUs. So we left it on all night, thus keeping the cabin toasty warm, and we were certainly not bothered by the glare. This heating method, incidentally, seemed to work better than the stove, which either tended to get the place up to about 120 degrees Fahrenheit, or not burn at all.Next morning after breakfast we decided to try one of the outlying lakes, which entailed a hike for about a half mile. I wanted to ride John Henry, the camp mule, but Larry nixed the idea, so after I convinced Sam that I was an invalid and could not handle the 4600 ft altitude, we settled for Sam carrying the pack. After what seemed like an endless uphill slog, accompanied by at least 10 million angry mosquitoes, we came out on this pristine lake. A boat and motor awaited, so we climbed in, proceeded to fly fish, and caught our limits of 12 inchers with no trouble. The hike back was uneventful, but would you believe that it was uphill as well, the 10 million mosquitoes had brought along another 10 million of their friends, and Sam had to carry the fish, as well as the pack.
Next day was a similar gig, except the trail was about a mile longer the fish were bigger, and the mosquitoes meaner. My invalid story again caused Sam to feel sorry for me and carry all the paraphernalia. Rods tackle, nets, and the works. We found this lake to be really productive, despite a real gully washer rain and hail storm. We skipped the flies here, and went with triple teasers. Of course we then had to invent a fish story for the guys back at the lodge, because we did use lures instead of flies, which is definitely not macho.
Packing up to go back to camp, I jammed most of the gear in the backpack, then stomped it down and jammed in the rest. Sam complained that it weighed about 20 pounds, so I told him he could carry the twenty pounds of fish to balance the load.
Of course we had some other adventures, like Sam making a misstep off the dock, or boat, or something, and having to swim ashore. (And this was before he had anything to drink.)
Also, there was the evening at dinner when I mentioned that Sam was a cousin of Mike Lowery. (An ex Washington state governor.) To this, another guest remarked that Lowery was so butt ugly that he would have trouble getting elected dogcatcher, and a third guest noted that there did seem to be quite a resemblance between Sam and the ex governor. So who cares if Sam didn’t share his cigars that evening? It was worth it.
Anyway, it was a fun trip. Great hosts, fantastic food, good accommodations, and lots of fish. We will go for it again next year, and if Larry builds a new washhouse facility like he promised, we might even consider taking along the ladies.
Then my old fishing buddy deserted me for his girlfriends, but Marlene felt sorry for Pat, and talked her into going with me. Better looking, and with a better disposition than my old pal anyhow.
So we headed to Kamloops, overnighted there, then on to the lodge. Weather didn’t look too promising, but what the heck. Anyway, Got settled in and hit the lake about two PM.
Caught a couple of small ones, then the heavens emptied. Like the proverbial p… out of a boot. But with the rain gear, didn’t get too wet. Then came lightning, thunder and about a twenty knot gale, and I headed for the barn in a hurry. So there went the first day’s fishing.
Next days weather was a lot better. And another plus, it turned out that we were the only ones in camp. As to fishin’, I was in kind of in a quandary. Didn’t want to fish the main lake, but didn’t feel up to hiking to the outlying ones, and surely wasn’t going to row, after I got to them.
But at this point, I don’t know whether Marlene felt sorry for me, or was bored to death, anyway she offered to hike to an outlying lake with me, carrying an oxygen bottle if necessary, and even to row the boat when we got there. So how could one turn down a deal like that, from a pretty girl, as well, and I jumped at the chance.
Well, we made the hike OK, all up hill, of course, and with ten million mosquitoes taking sample bites. Took about thirty minutes to go two kilometers, and I only collapsed once, but thankfully the oxygen was not needed.
But the weather was warm and sunny, fishin’ was great and we both limited out.
And I managed to stagger back down, but it seemed like up, the trail, collapsed into the boat, and we motored back to the lodge.
And after a couple of Coronas, I even felt well enough for dinner.
Next morning, Marlene talked me into doing the whole thing again, at another lake that she said was even better. And this time we drove part way in her old Jeep, and only had to hike three klicks to get to the lake. Of course, Marlene was loaded down like a pack horse, with coats, rain gear, lunches, fish boxes first aid stuff, etc. I even think that there was a collapsible stretcher in there somewhere.
Uphill again, of course, and even more of the ubiquitous mosquitoes. And when we got to the lake, I was really draggin', without Coronas or cigars to perk me up. But I had smuggled along some “uppers”, and after popping a couple of these I felt I could take on the world, but I did let Marlene row again.
Anyhow it was a perfect Canadian North Woods day. Blue skies with fluffy clouds, bluer water, loons crying, and fish jumping like mad. We found that chartreuse Carries were knocking ‘em dead, but Marlene only had one in her fly book. So I scrounged around in my pack, and found about twenty of ‘em, and we were set.
Anyway we were catching fish so fast that we actually lost count. In fact one guy, who I had hooked well, gave up the fight and jumped right into my lap, in the boat.
And at this point, Marlene rightly remarked,” When you are catching so many that you lose count, it’s a good day”
After about three hours of this frenzy, we both hooked a big one at the same time, and after boating them both, I told Marlene that we could never top that, so we had better quit while we were ahead.
So we drug back down (or up) the trail, collapsed into the Jeep and back to the lodge.
And by this time the uppers having worn off, I was in really bad shape. And actually felt that I would have to get better to die.
Anyhow we managed to pack up the next morning, say ‘bye to everyone, and somehow got over the border and home, before I collapsed. Being too pooped to go to the emergency room, and too broke to call an ambulance, I poured into bed, and was first in line at the Doc’s office the next morning.
Dr. Jim took one look, and didn’t seem to know whether to check me into the hospital or the morgue. But he is a fisherman as well, and when he heard my tale, less the part about the “uppers”, he sympathized with me, kind of. But he did remark that I was lucky that I hadn’t just keeled over at the lake, and that next time I probably would, if I kept this stuff up.
Anyhow, it’s now day four, and I am well enough to crawl out of bed and drag myself to the ol’ computer. But I haven’t yet decided whether to sign up again for next year.
