I turned to move upriver just in time to see a guy leap from the truck before the driver could even squeeze it into the tiny pullout already containing my jeep. He sprinted up the road to claim the head of the pool I was clearly walking towards. A second guy leapt from the truck before the engine turned off and he promptly low-holed my buddy Scott. I stood on the bank, stunned, with no where to go but back to my jeep. I climbed the bank as the driver of the truck got out and casually strung up his Spey rod.
"Any luck?" I asked with total sincerity despite having been completely cut out of the spot we had just been fishing.
"No, and some jerkoff bait fisherman just chased us out of the run we were fishing up river!" He snarled.
I looked at his truck...CA plates. Not that that mattered.
"Yeah, it happens" I said, then I broke down my rod and Scott and I went off in search of other waters.