We got away from the base of the waterfall, away from the rocks peppering the ground all around us. With all the melt from the glacier in this 30 plus weather the waterfall was abnormally high for this late in the season. We moved down the creek back to the truck and headed west to a fishing hole to try our luck in an other sport. Dawning on waders and shoes Brad and I headed to the confluence of little Trout Creek and the Bulkley River. Before casting the line in the gentle eddy's I glanced at my watch and 6 30pm it read.
 
   There were about 6 to 7 people casting from the shore, up to their knees in the cool river. It looked a fools game that they were participating in and every time I walked past them we both acknowledged each other with a tip of the hat. Brad moved fast up the river towards another confluence, the Toboggan Creek / Bulkley River. I stayed for a couple more casts. However, after failing to get a bite and on the verge of loosing one of my Blue Fox #3 I decided to follow Brad. I noticed an older man had just arrived sporting a white hat moving along the shoreline towards where Brad stood. He walked past Brad, they again tipped their hats, and quickly threw his line in an eddy...

   Bam! Fish on for the old guy with the hat. I am kind of glad he has a fish on. Reconfirms my action of throwing my own line in the water for hours on end. I walk up to Brad, pointing to the guy with the fish. Brad's shaking his head. He can't believe that guy caught a fish! Then I notice Brad has snagged his line and snaps it soon after.

  Hours slowly fade into the flowing river. I watch salmon rise and the water follow the patterns of the land. Old guy with the white hat has caught about four Coho. I have lost about 25 dollars in spinners. The sun is setting lower behind the mountains. I walk back towards Brad, who is fishing a new hole by the truck. I tip my hat to the old guy. I am glad he caught all them fish.

... "Hey Matt, the fish are rising over there!" Brad tells me.
    "Oh ya."

   I take up my rode again. I notice a calm spot where the current lets off. I throw the silver Blue Fox #4 right on the threshold of current and calm. BAM! Holy shit I have a fish on! A feeling of extreme pride of my fishing abilities swells from my pores. I smile crests cheek to cheek. It feels big, and I worry about the test of my line. But after about 10 minutes of fighting the silver Coho I am smashing a stick over its head.

   With a 10 pound Coho in my hand the old man walks up to me with a coho in his hand. My coho is a good 6 inches bigger. He compliments my fish, I thank him for his beta he shared with me earlier that day. I walk back the truck with Brad, I am the only guy carrying a fish.