Where have you been? Where are you going? And why?
Up a River Without a…Fly Rod
May 28, 2008Posted by on
Spent the day in central Oregon yesterday, walking through acres of iris flowers, wineries, and berry farms with my best friend. Then came the best and worst part…driving upon this covered bridge over a rushing river. I was at a loss for what to do. The rushing of the river, the chirping of the birds, the stillness of the trees all called to me. All I held in my hand was this little camera, severely inefficient when it comes to hooking a wild Oregonian trout, that is if trout even flourish here. My mind went to work, rather than my arm. But my mind’s eye directed my arm into motion. I could hear the count in my head, I could see the fly whipping over my head, the rod weightless in my hands. On my first cast, before the fly even hit the stream, a fish jumped. It rose out of the water with such strength and determination that would not be denied. And to my delight, she wasn’t. The fight began as she decided to push back upstream, dragging the line with her. And just like that, to her delight, it was over. The slack in the line increased, the pull of trout gone. And there I stood, alone with the rush of the river, just a camera in my hand.