Journal of Dan T. Cook - Fly Fishing the Globe
Traveling 75,000 miles around the world in search of fish and friendship.
Monday, June 12, 2006 - Day 6
For those who thought I had gotten soft, I rowed a LONG WAY today. The two fishing opportunities today were the Big Salmon and Little Salmon Rivers. Well….the Big Salmon was the same color as the Yukon and the Little Salmon was somewhat clearer, but held no fish on the portion that I was able to row up. Here in the Yukon, places that I think should hold fish don’t. It’s rather strange actually. I’d think a fish would love to feed in the clear streams and rivers that pour in to the filthy Yukon.
Anyway, I rowed till my hands nearly fell off today. Then I put on my weight lifting straps and rowed some more. I pulled in to the Coal Mine Campground in Carmacks at 9:45pm. It’ll take a few more days before my body is conditioned to rowing long stretches.
As I was rowing along today, I started thinking about how long it had been since I had a beer. 5 days? That’s the longest I’ve gone without since I was 14! (sorry Mom). Anyway, not more than 3 minutes went by when I spotted a can bobbing along ahead of me. It was white. I quickly browsed my mental beer can rolodex to determine which had white cans. Got it! The “local brew,” Molson Canadian! I quickly rowed over, trying not to get my hopes up. I plucked it out of the river. Sure enough! I’m not sure how long it had been since it became separated from its “family,” but it had been long enough to have had the blue and red colors sun-bleached from the can. I carefully inspected the can for signs that the lovely deliciousness inside may have been tainted. Nope. I opened it and the reassuring “PPSSSTTT!” ensued. SWEET!!! I took a suspicious gulp. Then another. In 20 seconds it was gone. I shook the beer above my head in attempts to extract every last drop. How did it get here? Could there be others? Perhaps someone dropped a 6 or 12 pack in the water? Heck….perhaps a whole frickin’ Molson Canadian delivery truck fell off a bridge!!!! I grabbed the oars and quickened the pace downriver while scanning the river for other survivors. After a couple of miles I began to accept the glum fact that it had been traveling solo…..just like me. The Yukon River had delivered a miracle….and I was thankful.