Today is day 764 of our two-week Covid-19 quarantine. I'm currently experiencing a dull ache behind the eyes and a feeling of listlessness. It's been quite a while since I last went fishing or hiking or snowshoeing or anything exciting. My consumption of random trail mixes has also increased. It's not a great combination.
To say that we are living in strange times is probably the understatement of the century.
Good Things Come In Threes... Right?
Good things come in threes, right?
This past fall, Jacob returned home from a day on the river to excitedly announce the sale of three identical custom bamboo builds. I'll repeat that in case you didn't catch it, three identical (if this were Facebook, I might have used all caps) custom bamboo rods. It's quite easy at the moment to become overly excited about the prospect of work during what is sure to be a slow winter. Don't get me wrong; work is excellent; work is especially useful when it's rod building. But, there's that word again, identical.
If you know Jacob, you know that he is particular. And, if you know him really well, you know that particular is a bit of an understatement. So, let the record show, I was a little skeptical about how this undertaking was going to turn out.
The Great Kokanee Search
Kokanee Salmon. It's official, I've got a new obsession. I learned a few months ago that Kokanee's inhabit a river just twenty minutes from my house. A few local newspaper articles, several hours of "googling," and way too much time staring into my phone watching YouTube videos and I have become determined to catch one of these boogers.
I'll admit, I am captivated by some of the oddities in the fishing world. Tiny little trout? Check. Slimy, stinky carp? Check (although I've yet to catch one). Whiskery catfish? Check. And now, those prehistoric-looking kokanee. What can I say, they've captured my heart from afar.
Read moreWriter's Block - A Journey
I've just sat down at my local library to write about some of our recent fishing trips and I encountered a problem I've had all year, writer's block. I've tried exercises varying from free writing to forcing myself into 1000 words to switching up where I write. Needless to say, not much of it has worked. They say (who are they anyway?) that this condition can last a few weeks to a few years. I'd like to think I'm still in a curable stage and can recover without too much treatment. I put a bit of effort into some technical 'how-to' writing, but what can I teach you that you don't already know? I'm stuck with the metaphorical gibberish.
Read moreStill Here
There’s a chile roaster in a just about every grocery store parking lot. The aspen trees are changing from green to bright yellow and orange. All of the trout have decked themselves out in their best fall colors. Mornings are brisk, usually in the 40s; afternoons are full-on summer. For me, this is the most magical time of the year and usually one of the hardest.
In years past, this is the week that Jacob and I would pack up our little Subaru, full of beer that we couldn’t find back East and goodies that we couldn’t live without, usually a collection of rocks and other treasures found along trout streams. It’s the time of year that we say “see ya’ later” to the place we love so much, but not this year.
Read moreFinding Your Endurance
I've figured out that there's an endurance sport for almost every 'outdoorsy' person, mountain, desert or water, there's certainly one for you. But here's the thing, fly-fishing is most certainly not on that list, or so I thought.
A while back, Jacob and I went out into the high country, possibly a bit earlier than we should have. See, there was plenty of snow this past year and it took the rivers a little while to go down. As much as we both thought we knew what 'high water' meant, alas, we did not. It was much like coming to grips with the fact that east coast mountains are not the same as actual mountains. Swallow pride, move on.
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