That is how he prefaced the trip once I had agreed to join him. There may be some sketch involved. Well…I ain’t scared a no ghost. I eat sketch for breakfast—I convinced myself. So, my friend Peter successfully convinced me to go on a wild goose chase of sorts. Parking along a road in a non-descript, but very particular, gravel pull-off and bush whacking strait down into a narrow canyon. There was a stream down below and if it held trout they could be big and plentiful and untouched. You know…could be. I could not pass on the opportunity. I had known Peter for over a year and never fished with him. Long time coming. Besides, he was a long-time Nederander and I am a recent Coal Creek Canyon Dweller. I felt like this invite had something to do with that. We were neighbors now. I was finally one of the cool kids shivering and smoking cigarettes out behind the BFI dumpster. I had to go. Sketch and all. Bring it.
True to plan, I met Peter at a pre-designated mountain bar and he jumped into my truck with an arm-load of fishing gear. “How many rods ya bringin’?”
“Just the one. A three weight?” I said.
“Cool. We good? Lets go!”
Sweet. Let’s do it!
And there was, no kidding, some sketch involved. A drive-by: yeah, that was the spot! Swingin’ a u-ey on a mountain highway. Skidding to a halt on a narrow gravel shoulder. Dashing across previously mentioned highway in half-donned waders and clutching rod parts. And then an Apollo 13-esk descent down an un-trailed rocky gorge into the promised land. Yes…plenty of delicious sketch. And the stream below was, also, as Peter had promised. There was hardly sign of any others before us, the trout were plentiful/good-sized/ gullible (they loved a #12 Banksia Bug!) and we each were able to get our fill…our fix…with still enough time to turn back and hike out before dark.
Then, back at the mountain bar we came to the realization that neither one of us had our wallets with us. I had a check book (bar don’t take checks…sorry) and Peter had his AmEx (Visa or MC only…sorry). So we scrounged our vehicles and came up with a five spot and some change. What’s yer cheapest beer? PBR? $2.50 each? Sweet! Even got enough for a tip! And we nursed those two and tried to guess how many trout we had landed…