We found a nice shady campsite along the Truckee River. These days it’s not much of river but a slow moving stream. Not even a ripple. A hundred years ago it was commonplace to catch forty pound cutthroat trout. Today, the only cutthroat I’ve seen is on the placard up near the iron ranger.*
So I kept the fishing rod in the van and constructed this little crawfish trap. I cut a plastic juice jug at the second knuckle, inverted it back into the jug, and duck(or is it duct?) taped it together. Strung my fishing stringer through a hole, stuffed a piece of salami through the jug hole, sunk it to the bottom of the river.
Crawfish propel themselves backwards so once it’s in the hole munching on week old salami, he’s trapped. I check the trap every once in a while as their is not much wiggle room in that jug. Then I fish the suckers out by the tail.
With the firewood left behind by other campers, Hali will build a hot fire and we’re cookin’ steaks tonight. Foil up an ear of corn, stuff a foil clad potato into the coals, and boil up some water while fishing out the two biggest of these guys for their last bath. Bon Appetit!~~~Surf & Turf on the Truckee.
I sure would’ve preferred a hunk of smoked trout instead of these bottom dwellers.
* iron ranger: the iron canister campers slip their camp fees in and mark their fish count on~15 crawfish.