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Old Gold: digging in the crates of the basement, we sometimes find old nuggets we thought we should share…

Ralf loved to take Linda for long week-ends in the Sierra, just a couple of hours out of town. The road would first take them across vast plains where mexican workers were bending low, picking vegetables. Then it would get narrower as it climbed up to Yosemite. They would stop in a place aptly named Fish Camp, and would have dinner at Tenaya Lodge, usually a Sirloin steak thick as the wrist. High in the moutains, the air would be nice and fresh, and from the open window they would hear the noises coming up from the small lake, which would be a pleasant change from San Francisco’s honky tonk. The next day, after a good hour drive

(in the park they would hardly go faster than 40 mph), Ralf would leave the main road for a dirt track only he and a couple of lumberjacks seemed to know of. He would park the car under the trees, and while Linda walked around asking him about bears, Ralf would laugh and take out his fishing gear. He would hand Linda a pair of hip boots. These should fit you. Don’t you worry about the bears, you make such a racket talking and waving like that they probably left the county by now. Silent and moody, Linda took off the Frye boots she had bought in Fresno in a previous trip. She put on the hip boots. She looked rather sexy in these woods where the sequoia trunk zoomed skywards like turned on teenagers. In the distance one could hear the stream where Ralf used to fish, and in no time Linda rushed there. Ralf, still busy with his gear, looked over his shoulder, and couldn’t help to stare at her butt, revealed by the tight jeans and the boots. He thought she had one of the hottest bums he had ever seen.

Linda walked down the steep banks of the stream. Without hesitation, she opened her fly box and took a big deer hair sedge. As soon as ready, she started to fish the water, without any consideration for rises or anything else. Joy and excitement had taken over patience. two or three false casts and her caddis landed just between a couple of boulders, on a seam. She had no time to realise what was going on, in a fraction of a second, a big rainbow rose like a rocket and took the fly! Linda did the right thing, she stroke and lift her arms, but the trout after a couple of mad jumps broke free. Ralf, who had still to put his waders on, had watched the whole scene. He walked down to the stream deliberately, and came to Linda trashing the water, spooking every fish around. He stopped by her, took her rod away, grabbed her arm, and laid her on his lap and there, in the middle of the stream, all splashed and wet, he spanked her wholeheartedly. He cried: you do NOT fish without THINKING!!” Bursting in tears, she would promise never to do it again, begging his forgiveness. But he would leave her in the stream and climb back to the car, without listening, and she would run after him and implore him, she would always do as he would say, she would be a nice girl, she would obey him.

They made love right there, on the pine needles. Linda still had the hip boots on… It was always the same story. They could only make love in such circumstances. They ended up leaving San Francisco, they bought the Tanaya Lodge, and went stream fishing till the end of their lives.

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