Evening star., 1942-07-10

haps, no other man in the country
has rowed so many miles. There
was one stretch of 18 consecutive.
days when he rowed 40 miles each
day. His boat for the trip is spe-
cial; it has a steel keel for the
perilous moments when the f1athead
washes him onto a rock.
After some palaver Skipper Hous-
ton said he'd take me down the
river.
He uses simple equipment: A split
bamboo fly rod, gut leader, a silk
line and a few spinners and flies.
He says he's never taken person
down the fathead who failed to
get trout. He says it's because
he knows where the trout feed.
Rapids Provide Thrill.
He showed me how to cast! How
to spot the water flies on the water
because they'd attract the trout.
The boat swung crafty in the
rapids, but once you've cast you
forget that the old man with the
scythe may be third passenger.
At one spot there was .churning
wall of white water, but to the left
there was a quiet inlet. Skipper
Houston said old Senator Tom
Walsh used to insist on going right
over the worst of it. So did We
The current was 20 miles an hour
We headed for the spume. The
water fell away 3 feet on the other
side. Our boat tossed like cork
but Houston kept the boat swinging
safely in the churn, using his paddie
like an Indian in a canoe. Some
times the boat was travelling prov
first! Sometimes it swept along
stern first.
We tossed up on the crest ano
then dropped over the fall, stern
first, Houston tense, and then the
flathead carried us downstream 1r
a swift shoot straight into a small
whirlpool that really was just 8
quiet boil after the rapids. Houston's
eyes changed from slate-gray to
smile. His shoulders relaxed.
Now cast, right ahead" nj
shouted over the roar. Midstrean
OF the deep, jade water there was
a smooth strip, maybe S feet wide
f1ecked with foam and Uttered with
May flies.
Then the Trout Struck.
I cast. Maybe Is feet off the
boat. 1t took three minutes. Then
tug! I jerked-just a half inch
the reel began to spin, the line flew
out. I held and the rod bent tc
breaking point.
Its big one," shouted Houston
He's been doing this Al years, but
his eyes still glow with the sport
''Sit down." he shouted as I hall
rose. Reel in"
I reeled, the rod bent. I gave 9
little, the line spun out. Some
where in the deep water there was
fighter on the end of the line
Then the line stopped. relaxed
but Houston's eyes were cold. Sud.
denly the line swung out again.
Good, fight left" Houston chor.
tied. Let him run, then reel him
| in"
So a 10-minute fight started. Rec
in and let him run. Reel in anc
let him run. The rod groaned. The
water churned under us and once
I realized we'd slid back into the
rapids and were bobbing up anc
down badly. But skipper fought
back into quieter water and ther
suddenly the trout broke water!
curved, angry, silver something.
What a Tasty Dish.
Houston dropped one oar and helc
out net. I plopped my beauty
into it. A 5-pound cutthroat trout
and was he mad!
That dusk fried him in Hous'
tons kitchen. His home is los
cabin on the shores of Lake Nc
Donald, filled with hunting trophie
which museums have begged! Par
ticularly that double-shovel caribo,
head.
Houston has turned down $1,O0t
for the caribou. He said he reall!
doesn't need the $1,000.
That minute my trout came W
out of the butter and I couldn'
have used the $1,000 either.