We headed around the corner to the Stump Hole, so named because of the huge tree stump upturned on the rocks. As we started bumping down the beach, both our heads swiveled to the left and toward a corner of the hole. It looked like there was a slow water trough between the willows and the fast water mid-river. The line of least resistance. This was the spot.

Mitzy jumped out and began her ritual of smelling and exploring. Most of the dogs on the beach are big ones of the hunting variety, but Mitzy is a pure-bred mutt of twenty-one pounds. In the boats she wears her pink life jacket and is known by all as "Captain Mitzy". She makes sure no other boats, especially ones with dogs, get too close to ours. I have had to grab her in mid-leap from attacking a pit bull in another boat at a take-out. She has no fear and less sense. While these larger dogs scurry about the beach, noses down, Mitzy on her short legs, climbs up and down the rocks like the Mars robot. If we leave the boat home, she relaxes and plays with any dog that cooperates.

Plunkin' is not for A type personalities. Sitting in your rig in the pouring rain is not an aerobic sport. It may be a good time to catch up on your reading, do cross-word puzzles, or doze if you have bells attached to your stick. I did see one fellow working on his lap-top with a cellular phone in his ear, but he obviously had missed the point. Plunkin' is a way to get out of the house and do almost nothing.

Since today was sunny, Dan and I took our folding chairs and pretended not to be napping, jerking our heads up occasionally and cleaning off our rigs. We had discussed putting the drifter in at the Forks, but decided there was just too much water for that. Few guides took their boats down the river, and one of them left his anchor at the Park Hole. Unable to move it, he just tied a plastic jug to the rope and threw it overboard. When the water is down, someone will retrieve it. At high water, this river is a snaggy son-of-a-gun. Sometimes the water is dotted with floating pink puffballs like huge pollen. You see them in the trees, in the ferns, in the rocks. Occasionally you see hot-shots hanging from branches like Xmas ornaments.

Normally, plunkin' is done in the pouring rain from your vehicle. I have seen rods tied to bumpers, side mirrors, lumber racks and sticking out of sunroofs. Mostly everyone uses some sort of rod holder. Ours are pvc pipe, duct taped to rebar. There is no end to the uses for duct tape. Since you are in your vehicle, and your rod is out there somewhere, it is imperative that you be able to see if you're getting bit. This is also an area of great improvisation. Some of the materials I have seen dangling from rod tips include yarn, pieces of cloth, bells, Christmas ornaments, tinsel, lighters, and empty beer cans.

If there is no wind and your "strike indicator" is jerking, you had better get that door open and your butt in gear. Racing in waders over slick, round river rocks can become an event for the X games. I suggest keeping the rod as close to the rig as possible. Once the hook is set, reeling like crazy is the next move. A fish bound on getting upstream is even more motivated with a hook in his jaw. For me, this is where pure luck steps in. Most fish win this game of tug-of-war, but enough succumb to keep our hopes up and our rod holders out.

Did we catch fish today? No. Did we have a relaxing day, sitting in the sun, listening to the river sounds, pretending not to doze? Yes. Plunkin' ranks up there with meditation for stress relief. It's sorta Zen that way.

Columnist Joan Carter co-owns, with her husband, Dan Carter's Guide Service.