The Drop...

The drift toward the third island below the locus of Tanner’s last immaculate presentation, that yielded a rather robust specimen, continued the inaugural float to the lower end of the Ranch. Coming around the gravel island with a few trees and shrubs jutting in a long row that obscured the view to the other bank, there was a sense of anticipation and discovery as we pushed downstream.  This was all new territory as we swung around the last bend away from the Ranch heading toward uncharted waters.

Somewhere on the section below the Ranch we knew the river split and since none if us knew where this would occur or what it might look like, we were all a bit apprehensive. This section of river flowed well below the elevation of the surrounding farm land, limiting sight distance to the reaches below. There was a long section with a high bank on the left, with massive overhanging willows on the right. Tanner would cast to the willows, I toward the rocky high bank, the perfect set up, and a way to cover it all. He hooked up and, occasionally, I’d do the same. We worked in harmony having a blast catching a few here and there, but mostly soaking in the afternoon sun and the glistening water. 

Taylor, was in full tilt “Guide Mode”, looking for rising fish, studying the surface for insect activity and, above all, keeping one eye looking downstream to catching a peek at the split before we came too close to pull back.

Without an understanding of the nature of the structure of the check, we were nervous. Was it high like the Chester backwater or a pile of rocks, like a coffer dam, how wide was the chute, will it kill us, will we need to portage or can it be run. 

Suddenly, Taylor stood tall with an oar end in each hand, then stretched his neck high above his shoulders, chin protruding forward and downstream, as he knowingly mumbled, “there it is”.


A rather sophisticated structure appeared ahead. Two massive concrete boxes anchored each side of the split with concrete supports rising from beneath the surface of the water, supporting a metal mesh pathway and railing for access across the top. It was impressive. A concrete dam several feet high backed up the water flowing into and over it, raising the surface level to allow it to divert water to the right fork. We, at least knew river left was our route, but we definitely needed to know how far it dropped on the other side.

Taylor rowed to the left bank, secured the boat with a line around a rock, as we all grabbed our rods and other stuff to climb up the bank to stand on the concrete bunkers to take a look. It became obvious that the drop was about four feet or so deep with good flows below. Uncertain how well the low profile X-13 Skiff would handle the drop Taylor began re-rigging the anchor rope to line the boat down the drop.

Tanner stood atop the bunker while Taylor hucked the line in such a way that it flew beneath the catwalk with the end of the line catching Tanner’s outstretched hand, as he lay on his belly atop the bunker. Taylor then waded out into the river and guided the boat exactly to the middle of the run which stretched between the concrete bunker on the left bank and the first concrete support further across.

Tanner held the line as Taylor, standing waist deep, gave the skiff a mighty shove as it glided toward the drop. Suddenly, the back end launched high in the air as the bow plunged into the white churning water at the bottom of the drop. Water came rushing over the bow of the skiff and Tanner pulled hard on the anchor line to steady it as the stern swung quickly down stream in the rushing current. Once over the drop, both of Taylor’s arms shot straight up to the sky like a ref signaling the “point after” made it through the uprights.

The boat swung around downstream to about where I was standing. I caught the stern and secured the line Tanner had just tossed down to me.

The whole scene was pretty cool, had all the elements, anticipation, uncertainty, adventure, necessity and, in the end, resolution, we where jubilant. It was great watching Taylor's boat come crashing bow first into the boiling water below the dam, filling with water rushing in from all sides and wondering for that second or two, if we would need to hike it back to the Ranch or hitch a ride on the highway downstream..

True to form, it didn't take Tanner long to grab the bilge pump and suck river water sloshing around in the bottom Taylor's boat.

With everything loaded, I jumped between the oars and dropped into the seat and rotated the bow downstream, as T & T worked out line casting toward opposite banks.

What a kick…