I recently had one of those backbreaking, boring Saturday mornings filled with yardwork.....snip, prune, weed, water, trim, mock my lazy neighbor and his weed patch......yuck. All the fun "Ciscoe" gargage that royally sucks. After we got all our yard maintenance and other assorted chores done, my wife and I decided to head out for a couple hours of long-awaited and much-needed local sunshine. We decided to stay close to home so we went down to Renton to a hugely popular stretch of the Cedar River to enjoy a couple cocktails (oooooops....did I say that out loud? ) and take a few casts......why not? The river is open, but is still pretty high and not yet safe for wading unless you are 8'6" and weigh at least 600 pounds. That park attracts a wide.....ahhhh.....assortment of humanity that must be seen to be believed......

"Mom, if you didn't spend all the pocket change we stole from that drunk under the bridge on friggin' DONUTS, we'd have enough left for another case of Schmidt Ice!"



Overhead sun doesn't usually add up to great trout fishing but this was more of a chance to break out, get some rays and chuck a bug or two. After about twenty minutes of drifting nymphs with no luck I tied on a conehead streamer and took some casts......




After about a dozen flings of the old silly string, I managed to hook a trout........





It ran straight upstream to where some whitetrash were throwing the usual bombardment of rocks and sticks into the river. At this point, the riverbank is actually a paved sidewalk trail that is about 12' above the river so I had to climb over a railing to get down to water level. Of course, as soon as I was in a nice position downstream of my trout and really able to put the screws to him with my Winston BllX 5 wt, it zipped straight downriver and made my reel sing. We settled in for some classic tug of war......I'd gain some line, he'd take some, I'd gain some back, he'd yank some more....then he just took off for Lake Washington, daring me to try and stop him. I had to scramble back up the bank, climb back over the railing and run after the fish from up on the high bank while being cheered on some toothless denizens of the park. Surreal, to say the least......with I-405 traffic noise adding to the "remoteness" of the "wilderness" experience

This battle was friggin' epic....The fish kept on charging downriver, going absolutely apeshit, jumping and thrashing around on the surface while the PWTs clinked Icehouse tallboys in tribute to "that there yuppie with the fancy fishin' pole".

My trout was now way downriver sulking under the I-405 bridge pillar...and it was pretty deep into my backing. I couldn't follow it due to an overhanging tree in my way.....and my line was caught in the branches! I tried to shake my flyline loose, but there was no turning back. I needed an assist from my wife or this trout would never pose for a photo.

My wife and I were both laughing at this ridiculous predicament, then she gave me a perfect assist by grabbing my flyrod while the 'bow thrashed under the bridge to the amazement of several inebriated onlookers. Mrs. Mingo had the flyrod in a deathgrip, hanging on for dear life while being "coached" by some scuzzy-toothed self-proclaimed "bass fisherman" numbskull with a giant blue parrot perched on the shoulder of his Megadeth wifebeater. I sprinted downstream, grabbed a long branch, leaned out, hooked the flyline and carefully handlined the trout in in for a couple quick shots before the release. I wish I had it all on video, it would have been funny as hell to see!

A closeup shot of the gorgeous straight red fins with white tips...........a true native. It is time to make this river flyfishing only to cut down on poaching and protect these beauties!

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