I will choose to take the high road and not risk upsetting the fish gods by talking trash, but yesterday evening they had nothing that could stop me. The water is finally flowing at a normal level and is nice and clear, so I decided to take a walk down to slippery riffle for an evening of fly fishing. I started at my normal spot at the head of the riffle and worked my way down, skipping over the slickest part so as not to fall on my face again. I fished down my usual 75 yard stretch of water and picked up one nice 15" brown on a hot flash. I was a little disappointed as I had fished for 45 minutes with little to show for it. I had tried several droppers fished below the hot flash with no success, until I put on a jay yellow. That is basically a tiny white jig head with yellow thread tied around the hook shank. As I worked my way back upstream I picked up another nice brown on the hot flash, and then a 15" rainbow on the jay yellow. This particular fish I caught between about 5 canoes that were floating by (I couldn't hear very well but I think one young lady commented about how I looked like Brad Pitt out there fishing). I added one more 13" brown on the hot flash, and on my final cast of the day I landed a 12" rainbow on the jay yellow. The fish gods would test me on this fish. I had once again skipped over the slickest part of slippery riffle and gone above this point for a few final casts. After a several casts I finally placed the fly just across the main channel to the edge of an eddy where I have caught many fish before. As I put a large upstream mend in my line the strike indicator abruptly dove, and using my catlike reflexes I immediately set the hook. This rainbow quickly swam for the swift current and headed downstream, not realizing it was only a 12 incher I decided I should follow. As I turned to face the fish, the current dislodged my left croc, which was now being held between my two biggest toes, this led me to stumble down the river onto the slippery bedrock below where I had been fishing. This is not the first time this has happened so I knew to face downstream and bend my knees sliding down the rock much like Bode Miller skiing a black diamond in Aspen. For once this tactic worked and I was rewarded with another beautiful stream bred rainbow, and a fully intact tailbone. When all was said and done I had caught 5 fish in about an hour and a half, managed to keep my footing and somehow was able to get my shoe back on while fighting a fish in heavy current. I'd like to see Bode Miller try to get his ski boot back on in the middle of a downhill race, I don't think so Bode!