Tripped Up
Jim Jelak
He laughs. "You won't believe it. I'll show you the photos." Turns out the water levels were extremely low and the mud levels extremely high. They fought to push and pull the canoe through the muck but finally had to abandon the effort. They searched in vain for a portage that would take them from the trickle-of-a-river to the lake. They never found it. "It was humid - probably 75 degrees - but at least the mosquitoes were hungry." We both laugh. They never made it to Jackfish. I don't bother sharing my daydream account of that day.
We chat some more and he assures me that "it wasn't the same without you." Despite the claims of less than stellar angling and the aborted trip to Jackfish my brother declares it among the finest trips he has ever taken, an adventure that tested his outdoor skills to their fullest.
I am happy for Rick and Matt. A trip of a lifetime was achieved. And in my happiness for them only a sliver of regret lingers. It's time to move on.
After all, plans needed to be made for next year. That's the solace one can always take at the end of a B dubs trip. Even at the end of a trip that never happened.
There's always the next time.
"You know," I begin, "If we go up right after ice out I bet Jackfish Creek will be full of water. We'd have no trouble getting down to the lake."
Rick just laughs at me.
© Jim Jelak
