Rough 1st draft
Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2014 4:58 pm
I just whipped this together randomly today. It maybe a little unorthodox for a personal statement topic. Opinions are appreciated, good or bad. Need to decide if I want to go with this story or find a new topic. Thanks.
Rough Draft
After 19 hours of driving, the end is finally in sight. As we pass through the town of West Yellowstone, Montana we know we are closing in on our destination. Both of us are exhausted and only functioning with the assistance of caffeine and junk food. The clock reads 1:00 AM when we finally find the Beaver Creek campground I had researched online. The road meanders through the forest about a mile and we begin seeing signs for the designated campsites. We randomly select campsite 19. Our campsite appears to be a small clearing in an otherwise very dense forest of tall trees. My legs tremble as I exit the vehicle. The stars fill the sky unlike anything I have ever seen before; then I hear it. It is the unmistakable sound of running water and the reason for which we came. It is the Madison River. The Madison River is said to be one of greatest trout fishing rivers the world. Eager to fish the next morning we quickly set up our tents and call it a night.
The sun rises over the surrounding mountains, shining into my tent, and I slowly awaken. I am met with a slight chill in the air as I climb out of my tent; a nice change from the sweltering summer heat back home in Missouri. The daylight reveals the terrain around me. There are mountains and forest everywhere I look. The campsite is much bigger than I expected and has a series of small trails working their way through the area. One of the trails leads directly towards the long line of fog in the bottom, which is almost certainly coming off of the river. This is my path. After quickly eating a granola bar I start preparing my fishing gear. My waders are on, boots laced tight, net attached hanging down my back, and my tackle is stored inside my chest pack. I attach the two pieces of my nine-foot fly rod, attach the reel, and begin walking towards the river.
I am truly mesmerized when I reach the rivers edge. The river is sixty yards wide and the far bank is met with a steep mountainside. The water is surprisingly swift and rapid. Scattered throughout the river are large boulders. The water is crystal clear and varies in depths although most of the water appears to be knee to waist deep. The moment passes and now I begin to focus on the task at hand, catching fish. I notice several fishermen wade out and begin making their casts. Perhaps it is the engineer in me, but I decide to observe and analyze the river before making my approach. Where most are seeing running water with fish scattered throughout, I see the river in a different sense. I see flow rates, laminar flow, turbulent flow, etc. I don’t see many fish eating insects off of the top of the water. This leads me to think about what’s below the surface where they must be feeding. I know fish congregate in areas with slower flow in order to not exert as much energy fighting the current. I scan potential areas meeting this criteria and then I see it, a deep slow flowing section of river just beyond a nearby boulder. I estimate the depth, tie on a size 16 prince nymph (about the size of a fingernail), and set my bobber 6 feet above my fly. I sneak up behind the boulder and begin working my line back and forth as I make my cast. I work my line into a good spot upriver and let my fly drift down through the deep seam. The bobber darts under and I quickly set the hook. I am instantly met with the sensation of a fish on the end of my line. The fish fights through the current. I reel when I can but let the fish run when I feel the tension on the line might be too much for my four pound test fluorocarbon leader. The fish eventually wears down and I am able to reel him in to netting distance. I draw my net from my back and scoop the fish into the net. It is my first Montana fish and is a beautiful eighteen-inch rainbow trout.
Rough Draft
After 19 hours of driving, the end is finally in sight. As we pass through the town of West Yellowstone, Montana we know we are closing in on our destination. Both of us are exhausted and only functioning with the assistance of caffeine and junk food. The clock reads 1:00 AM when we finally find the Beaver Creek campground I had researched online. The road meanders through the forest about a mile and we begin seeing signs for the designated campsites. We randomly select campsite 19. Our campsite appears to be a small clearing in an otherwise very dense forest of tall trees. My legs tremble as I exit the vehicle. The stars fill the sky unlike anything I have ever seen before; then I hear it. It is the unmistakable sound of running water and the reason for which we came. It is the Madison River. The Madison River is said to be one of greatest trout fishing rivers the world. Eager to fish the next morning we quickly set up our tents and call it a night.
The sun rises over the surrounding mountains, shining into my tent, and I slowly awaken. I am met with a slight chill in the air as I climb out of my tent; a nice change from the sweltering summer heat back home in Missouri. The daylight reveals the terrain around me. There are mountains and forest everywhere I look. The campsite is much bigger than I expected and has a series of small trails working their way through the area. One of the trails leads directly towards the long line of fog in the bottom, which is almost certainly coming off of the river. This is my path. After quickly eating a granola bar I start preparing my fishing gear. My waders are on, boots laced tight, net attached hanging down my back, and my tackle is stored inside my chest pack. I attach the two pieces of my nine-foot fly rod, attach the reel, and begin walking towards the river.
I am truly mesmerized when I reach the rivers edge. The river is sixty yards wide and the far bank is met with a steep mountainside. The water is surprisingly swift and rapid. Scattered throughout the river are large boulders. The water is crystal clear and varies in depths although most of the water appears to be knee to waist deep. The moment passes and now I begin to focus on the task at hand, catching fish. I notice several fishermen wade out and begin making their casts. Perhaps it is the engineer in me, but I decide to observe and analyze the river before making my approach. Where most are seeing running water with fish scattered throughout, I see the river in a different sense. I see flow rates, laminar flow, turbulent flow, etc. I don’t see many fish eating insects off of the top of the water. This leads me to think about what’s below the surface where they must be feeding. I know fish congregate in areas with slower flow in order to not exert as much energy fighting the current. I scan potential areas meeting this criteria and then I see it, a deep slow flowing section of river just beyond a nearby boulder. I estimate the depth, tie on a size 16 prince nymph (about the size of a fingernail), and set my bobber 6 feet above my fly. I sneak up behind the boulder and begin working my line back and forth as I make my cast. I work my line into a good spot upriver and let my fly drift down through the deep seam. The bobber darts under and I quickly set the hook. I am instantly met with the sensation of a fish on the end of my line. The fish fights through the current. I reel when I can but let the fish run when I feel the tension on the line might be too much for my four pound test fluorocarbon leader. The fish eventually wears down and I am able to reel him in to netting distance. I draw my net from my back and scoop the fish into the net. It is my first Montana fish and is a beautiful eighteen-inch rainbow trout.