Fishing The Coast, Oregon and Washington
March
2006
Jennie's
Fishing Life
|
March 1st! Lavahappy
March! Soon we will get to see Mt. St. Helens more often! The sun
will shine! I love watching the Volcano cam!
|
Can
you see the face image in the water??? |
March 2nd
I'm putting a dent in my rotten steelhead season, and I'm thinking
I'm pretty hot! I am! I am hot! In fact, my thermometer registers 101, even
after I've been out in the rain and cold, this morning!
Fishin' fever! That's what I've got!
Beautifully colored native
I've caught more fish in the last two days than I have all season.
I went three for five this morning, and caught a nice big 14 poundish buck,
yesterday.
I'm sick, though, and really shouldn't be out. Or should I? Is it really true
that if you are sick, you shouldn't go out? Why wait? I just bundle up, take
my time, and go very, very slowly. I'm exhausted by the time that I get back,
and when I do, I simply go to bed.
Reminds me of once when I was newly married. I lived on the salmon river in
Otis, and I was fishing way too much. My husband was new to living with someone
with this habit. As he left for work, he cautioned me, as I lay on the couch.
"Promise me you won't go fishing, today. Just rest, OK?"
"Yes, sir."
As soon as he left, I hurried and got my waders on and was the traditional
disobedient wife.
I went fishing.
When he got home, I was laying on the couch. He was so happy with me. I had
gotten up to make a wonderful soup, and the delicious aroma filled our happy
home.
Everything was just fine until he opened the fridge.
"Where did this come from?" A huge steelhead lay curled up on the
bottom shelf, minimally cleaned, and bent in two.
"I love you, honey... I'm going to take a bath."
Not another word was spoken, and I don't think he ever found out I went fishing.
He's probably figured it out by now, though!
Anyhow, I'm going back to bed. The soup's on. The only difference is that
I have no fish in the fridge, but Bill wouldn't think twice if there were.
Oh! If you want to see larger pics of the fish,
click here!
March 5th
Please honor Stan for his
new election!
And as for the Salty Dogs, I can barely believe my eyes!
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Ifish thanks you! I thank you!
The members thank you!
I just opened a letter with money in it from the convention!
When I showed Bill, he said, "What the....." We were both in shock!!!!
You have no idea how stressed I've been, lately, trying to manage making ifish
run better, faster, and without errors. I've been toying with ideas of how
I can have more sponsors to pay for it without cluttering it with ads, etc.,
and I'm dealing with a body that can't work as well as it once did.
I got my taxes back, and that wasn't good! Even with the sponsors I have,
ifish is hard for me to pay for. I am making "cents" per hour, rather
than dollars, running ifish.
I do like to call it my job, and ifish is my business, since I can't make
a living playing the piano anymore.
However, each year ifish grows and grows. The dogs really gets busy in the
summer time, and that has also put a rise in the hosting costs.
You might have seen MySQL errors on ifish, from time to time. It happens when
too many people do too many things on ifish and look like this:
Warning: Too many connections in
/home/ifish/ifish.net/forum/mysql.inc.php on line 36 Warning: MySQL Connection
Failed: Too many connections in /home/ifish/ifish.net/forum/mysql.inc.php
on line 36 Warning: Failed opening '/home/ifish/ifish.net/forum/templates//tbopen.tmpl'
That is because our server is maxed out. I just added that brand
new server and more RAM year before last, as we did the same thing: Grew to
capacity! I thought that would handle things for a long time. NOT!
So, again this year, we are expanding. Ifish member Reelfine surprised the
heck out of me when he wrote, stating that he works for classmates.com, and
that they would like to donate some of their older servers to ifish! WOW!
I was thrilled! People around here just plain Rock!
We got those, and it's great, but... then I found out the rack space and the
additional bandwidth, and the money to help configure, install and set up
are going to be... well.... they are going to cost ifish money. Quite a bit
more than I planned on.
So, I've been stressed out.
Imagine my pleasure as I opened an envelope from the Salty Dogs... (apparentgenius
to be exact, and inside, a very generous contribution!!!!!!!)
I don't know who all to thank... that put on the convention, but I know apparentgenius
did alot, and Salty Walty and... who else? I guess it doesn't matter, it's
all of the Salties who helped make it happen, and helped to make it possible
to donate so much to the welfare of ifish!
Thank you to all of the donating sponsors!
This check in the mail made tears of relief come out of my eyes! I kid you
not!!!
When I was at the convention dinner, Glen told me what to expect, but... somehow
it didn't register, then.
It does now!
Ladies and Gents, you are one fine class of dogs!!! I tell you!
You win the Salty Dogscers of the year, that's for sure!
Anyhow, do know how very much it is appreciated and needed and do know that
you have taken a whole load of stress off of me, this week.
I got the contract for the new service agreement (including the install) and
I can pay it! Without my VISA!!!!
Do you even KNOW what that means to me?
You are an answer to my prayers.
I salute you, with my most humble gratitude!
Once upon a time, a girlfriend and I put together little bags of cookies we
had made, and put dollar bills in them. We went downtown and handed them out
to poor people during Christmas. You know, the people who sit inside doorways
of downtown buildings and push shopping carts around? We even went to a burger
place and added burgers to the bags!
One guy stopped in the middle of the street, and fell to his knees and said,
"There are angels! Those girls are angels!" I knew he was drunk,
but at the same time, I'll never forget it! Also, I know how it feels!The
Salty Dogs are angels, you know!
Fly your Salty Dog flag with pride, and be safe out there!
You really do "Leave no dog behind". You really do!
Visit
the Salty Dogs, here!
March 6th
How is this for freaky? Look
at this picture I took and see if you can see the face in the water!
Here is the blown up version!
(and sorry if I'm grouchy, Dave!
)
Just a little venting for a Monday Morning....
I've always considered myself lucky!
That's why I just deleted my entire rant on my ex husband that took me two
hours of emotion wrought writing, and left the very last part, which was the
conclusion that I came to, after writing and reading it. Sometimes it's good
enough just to write it, isn't it? It felt goodto get that out. After 15 years,
there is still hurt. Divorce never ends. But, here is the conclusion:
You know, in time, the boys will be gone.
Every morning I will be able to stay in my pajamas all day , if I want. The
television will be mine, all mine. The house will be quiet.
There will be no sounds of the boys laughing together, in their rooms. They
have always been odd that way. No fighting. None of what you'd expect between
sibs. No uglies. Just laughing, talking, and 'best friend' kind of stuff.
It's odd, but I don't complain!
I won't hear Andrew's footsteps as he comes up to tell me goodnight, or offer
a cup of hot chocolate, or just want to talk about the latest music, or how
his favorite band is coming to town.
Sometimes I'm tired and want to go to sleep. But, I don't complain.
David won't come to me in the morning and tell me that he's sorry he forgot,
but there is a band concert, tonight. He won't ask for rides at O' dark thirty
to a speech tournament bus. I listen, frustrated, but I don't complain.
I won't smell wonderful smells and hear them laughing in the kitchen, as Andrew
drums up the latest vegetarian recipe. For those calories, I certainly don't
complain!
The boys will move out, someday, and I will be alone, just like the days alone
that I crave, now. -But it will be permanent, then. That's scary!
The money I receive seems to adequately cover most of what we need. I have
been able to afford love, laughter, memories, and good times on a very modest
income.
We've made it just fine. I sometimes ponder raising the child support for
cost of living. I think about telling him about the hurt, the lack of thoughtfullness,
and the unfairness of it all... but it always comes back to something that
one of my moderators, 'Crabbait' reminded me of one day, in dealing with some
of the troublesome members who act badly on the ifish forums.
He said:
"I agree that we need to know who our friends are and who our enemies
are. I also think we should always strive to treat our enemies much better
than they treat us, or than they deserve to be treated. It makes me feel good
and baffles the heck out of them."
Andrew is in the kitchen this morning, cooking up good things
to eat. David just kissed my cheek, as he rushed off, late for school.
I'm just flat out, not gonna complain.
March 6th
How is this for freaky? Look
at this picture I took and see if you can see the face in the water!
Here is the blown up version!
(and sorry if I'm grouchy, Dave!)
Just a little venting for a Monday Morning....
I've always considered myself lucky!
That's why I just deleted my entire rant on my ex husband that took me two
hours of emotion wrought writing, and left the very last part, which was the
conclusion that I came to, after writing and reading it. Sometimes it's good
enough just to write it, isn't it? It felt goodto get that out. After 15 years,
there is still hurt. Divorce never ends. But, here is the conclusion:
You know, in time, the boys will be gone.
Every morning I will be able to stay in my pajamas all day , if I want. The
television will be mine, all mine. The house will be quiet.
There will be no sounds of the boys laughing together, in their rooms. They
have always been odd that way. No fighting. None of what you'd expect between
sibs. No uglies. Just laughing, talking, and 'best friend' kind of stuff.
It's odd, but I don't complain!
I won't hear Andrew's footsteps as he comes up to tell me goodnight, or offer
a cup of hot chocolate, or just want to talk about the latest music, or how
his favorite band is coming to town.
Sometimes I'm tired and want to go to sleep. But, I don't complain.
David won't come to me in the morning and tell me that he's sorry he forgot,
but there is a band concert, tonight. He won't ask for rides at O' dark thirty
to a speech tournament bus. I listen, frustrated, but I don't complain.
I won't smell wonderful smells and hear them laughing in the kitchen, as Andrew
drums up the latest vegetarian recipe. For those calories, I certainly don't
complain!
The boys will move out, someday, and I will be alone, just like the days alone
that I crave, now. -But it will be permanent, then. That's scary!
The money I receive seems to adequately cover most of what we need. I have
been able to afford love, laughter, memories, and good times on a very modest
income.
We've made it just fine. I sometimes ponder raising the child support for
cost of living. I think about telling him about the hurt, the lack of thoughtfullness,
and the unfairness of it all... but it always comes back to something that
one of my moderators, 'Crabbait' reminded me of one day, in dealing with some
of the troublesome members who act badly on the ifish forums.
He said:
"I agree that we need to know who our friends are and who our enemies
are. I also think we should always strive to treat our enemies much better
than they treat us, or than they deserve to be treated. It makes me feel good
and baffles the heck out of them."
Andrew is in the kitchen this morning, cooking up good things
to eat. David just kissed my cheek, as he rushed off, late for school.
I'm just flat out, not gonna complain.
March 8th
With a glance of the board this morning, I noticed a topic,
"Mid winter fishing blues."
Uh huh.
I've had those! It wasn't long ago, I think.
But, now... I can't recall it.
Yesterday, a shiver ran down my back as a brisk March wind blasted me full
in the face. The sun made me squint as I exited the garage door. Rod in hand,
shrimp in pocket, (no, I don't learn) my dog, Kilchis and I headed to the
river.
"Good morninnnnn' steelies!"
I was too lazy to try and fit my boots on. They are tight and it takes quite
an effort. Instead, I slipped easily into Bill's boots and was on my way.
My feet sloshed around, awkwardly on the rocks. Despite the wobbles and slips,
I was nearly to the first hole. A dipper teased Kilchis, across the river.
I swear they have a game going. I just know they do!
I reached into my pocket and neatly took the lid off of the shrimp. Cautiously
grabbing one of the lively critters with my thumb, I broke it in two.
I could do this blindfolded! I slid the tail of a shrimp over my standard
pink and white First Bite Jig,
checked the water level, (oh...perfect!) and adjusted the bobber stop to a
little over four feet.
Before I even cast out, I could feel it! Fish on! I kid you not! Everything
was just incredibly right! It smelled like fish, for crying out loud! The
fight was playing in my mind, even before I left the house!
If you've ever experienced my favorite quote, "Expect a fish with every
cast" by Stan Fagerstrom, you'd know, by golly, just what I mean.
Like a movie I've watched a thousand times, my lure went flying through the
air, landed perfectly 5 feet before the 'go to' spot, righted itself in the
water, caught the current, and began it's journey through what was sure to
be a very short, but eventful float.
I've done this a thousand times before. Both in my mind, in my dreams, and
in reality. And on this day, it was to happen, once again.
My bobber, perfectly 5 feet into the drift, lost contact with my eyes in a
heart stopping second. I barely had any slack out. I lowered my rod tip, quickly
reeled in until I could see that my line was taught, and swiftly raised my
rod.
I screamed to no one on earth, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a premeditated
hookset motivated by confidence!"
I caught this fish with deliberate purpose, with previous consideration, and
with some degree of planning!
But, "Oh, contraire!" I laughed! It was also accidental, casual,
and spontaneous! Isn't it always?
The fish was hooked in the roof of it's mouth. That always has me in hysterics
on the river bank. That fish must have jumped four feet out of the water in
a burst of chrome, flashing fireworks!
For some reason, it also wanted to come into shore, but not the shore that
I was standing on! No way! Kilchis was dancing, dangerously near the fish,
almost tangling the line, in excitement!
I finally lowered my rod to the left, dodging fresh tracks of elk, and directed
the splashing and sparkling water drops towards me. I reached up, and without
so much as touching it's beautiful flesh, I reached out with my pliers and
unhooked him.
He was gone, just as fast as that. The water in the air dropped casually back
into the rhythm of the flow. Just like that, he slipped through the water,
and was only a memory.
The river changed in an instant.
Suddenly, all around me was quiet.
"The river hush".
My dog sat next to me, totally still. I looked at him. He looked at me. "What?"
said the expression on his face. I glanced around me, 360. Where was it? Where
was that feeling? Where was the fish? Did it happen? I had visions of trees
falling, and no one around to hear it.
The excitement evaporated into thin air.
Ho well... I reached in my pocket and lifted the lid off of the shrimp, by
braille. In the other pocket, was shrimp scent that I had purchased at Maries.
I fished this hole for a few more casts knowing full well that the magic had
vanished.
My boots carried me clumsily upriver. I slipped, slid, and twisted my ankle,
but soon smooth sand greeted me and made my journey to to the next hole more
pleasant.
I chanted in a hushed voice, "Magic, magic, searching for the magic..."
This cast is more difficult and it's a 'make it or break it' off kind of game.
My Dad always said that if you don't lose gear, you aren't fishing. Well,
I was fishing! I usually reserve this hole for last, but my legs were too
tired to make it anywhere else.
I cast out, and sure enough, first cast, I lost the jig. It's still now, decorating
that beautiful maple tree. You can have it, if you like! That is, unless I
get it first-- with my next trip in a boat!
Shoot. I hadn't brought any leader, and it had broken pretty darn short. Still,
I decided to try. I tied on a brand new red and white jig. I opened my shrimp,
I applied the scent. I gave up on that hole, and traveled a bit further upstream.
First cast! Fish on! The fish came straight out of the water like a bullet,
and the river broke into a million crystal drops of spray! I LOVE that! It
was back! The magic returned!
I giggled as he, in all of the earth's beautiful full color and costume, came
more easily to my side, for a quick release.
I've learned that I like to not touch the fish. I tried once, to take a picture
while fishing alone. It frustrated me, and took some of the fun out of the
moment. Like most things, I see a challenge and I take it. But often, it's
not worth the trouble.
I make it a game now not to touch the fish at all. I like it that way, and
I think the fish likes me a little better, too!
My day wasn't finished until I caught one more in yet a different hole. At
about that time, it hit me. I was fully exhausted. It's easy not to recognize
these things, until it's too late.
I sat by the river for a while, and rested. Rain drizzled off my hat, and
down my back. The quiet re entered the area and surrounded me. The rain fell
as it worked to try to wash the events of the day away.
Oh... Not a chance!
The water flow was a perfect height and current, just made for steelhead.
Everything around me-- the air, the mood, the setting, the memories, the exhaustion!
It all just shouted "steelhead!".
"Mid winter fishing blues." ???
What, for gosh sakes are those?
"Magic, magic... I have found the magic."
March 11th
The shadows reflect a different light inside the house when
there is snow on the ground. I kind of like it! It's blue, though... a tint
of blue, anyhow. Somehow, it's been matching my mood.
Why am I blue? It snowed! I should be joyful! It's incredible! It's a miracle,
and yet I'm sad? Why? Life is so unpredictable!
However, a real smile spread over my face when I received a call yesterday
from Andrew. He said, "Mom! It's snowing here! Is it snowing there?!"
He was so excited. I've waited for a long time for a call like that. Not because
of the snow, but because I used to call my Mother whenever it snowed. It's
nice to hear that call, again--if only with generational difference. Tradition
carries on.
I've had a difficult couple of fishing days. I've had trouble getting tackle.
It seems every place is closed, every time I try to find what I need. My waders
both leak. Both my hip boots and my dry waders. It's time to re equip. I never
thought that would happen, but it has. I always felt so organized, but lately?
My life seems topsy turvy and out of control.... and my socks have seemed
really wet!
Ifish is consuming a bit too much of my life. If I could, I would have to
stay seated at the computer, 25/7 (Uh huh!) to keep up with it. No eating,
no sleeping, just stay and try to keep up! I couldn't do it, even at that.
It's grown to be a monster and it's going to eat me all up!
My bobber rod is finally ready to fish. I used a different weight system since
I couldn't get the ones I like. I think I'll go cast a couple times. The snow
on the meadow is brightly lit up by sunshine.
That crisp blue sky, that one that reminds me of being in a wheelchair feeling
helpless after my surgery.... that blue sky is haunting me, right now.
I need to replace those memories with a beautiful chrome steelhead on the
bank.
The tint of blue in the house needs to connect with something happy, and I
know that it is my job, my responsibility to create it!
Oh! And I did get to use my new sled! That was really fun!
March 13th
Teens say mean things. They just do! Thank
you, God-- that Andrew is past that stage for the most part. However, my dear
sweet David is starting in a bit. Lord, help me, I was just recovering from
the last round!
David is mostly sweet, and I know that deep down there is the same wonderful
David that I know, but the teen uglies have hit him and it will be a while
before this cocoon breaks fully open again. He's thoughtful, still, but not
usually of me. I'm just his Mom. It's all about David, right now. Hey! I can
relate! I've been there! I was a teen, and if memory serves me well, I was
equally mean to my Mom!
I know that I just have to wait it out. Oh... it's torture. It's hurtful.
It's sad. It's ugly, ugly, ugly! I know that there will come an end to it,
and by golly, I'm going to make it there!
His last comment to me, when I was attempting to explain and appreciate all
that he had, and all that I had done for him, was, "Oh yeah, Mom. Just
what do you do for me? Troll forums on ifish?"
Sigh. Yeah, I troll forums.
So, it's been a joke, since then. Every time he grabs for a box of cereal
at breakfast, I remind him, "Thanks be to Mom trolling forums, we have
this awesome cereal." His stylish new clothes, fresh from the dryer are
folded neatly and handed to him, compliments of the 'forum troller'. When
he comes in, cold from the snow, I say, "Ah! Heat! Heat! Plenty of electricity
from the forum troller!"
Oh, sure. I've told him that the comment hurt. I also told him that I am ill,
and that life is short, and I didn't want to spend the time I have, arguing
'uglies' with him.
He rolled his eyes. There it was again. Sullen, unappreciative. He doesn't
get it. How could he? At that age I was totally invincible. Death was as far
from my mind as it could be!
Let's not spend our short time on earth fighting! Please!!!
I find, however, that even as folks grow older and mature, they still don't
believe, really... fully... that death will happen! It's a cosmic thing, way,
way out there, and folks just continue to fight, hurl insults at each other,
and treat one another poorly.
I do lose patience, "trolling forums."
I grew up knowing I had Marfan Syndrome. A well meaning, but uninformed doctor
once told me that I would not make it past 35. Wouldn't you think that would
sink in? It did, but I joked about it! Talked about it in very casual tones.
Planned, accordingly, but lightly.
It wasn't until my dissection, 14 months ago, that I've had to really deal
with the concept of death. Let me tell you, it's not something you can teach
anyone about, nor anything that anyone can relate to. You have to go through
it, and even then, it's a very personal journey that cannot be shared, or
explained.
I have had to come to terms with the fact that my prognosis is not real good.
You think that's hard to come to terms with? What's even more difficult, is
to get others to believe it, or even understand it. Especially those that
love you most.
I have been through several counseling sessions regarding it, and I do believe
that I have done well digesting it. It took a lot of time, many tears, but
now? I can take it! But I can't share it. I've tried. It's mine to keep, to
hold close.
If I try (and Lord knows I have!) people think I'm after sympathy, or, the
people closest to me think I am exaggerating it. One thing is for certain.
They don't want to hear it!
Personally, it's a relief to me, to reach this plateau. It's a good feeling.
It's peaceful!
But if I mention it in passing, in a casual tone, I still hear those closest
to me say, "Be positive!" or, "Jennie, you could live to be
90!"
No matter the well meaning, it's frustrating. I don't want to hope for that,
nor would I want to live to 90! It hurts to have Marfan Syndrome in the first
place! Most of the time, (rumor has it!) old age hurts, too.
Let me tell you, I do believe in divine planning, and I do not believe that
any divine planner would have someone already in pain, extend their lifetime
to add the pain of old age on top of it! Ouch! No God of mine would double
those two up and dole it out on me! My God has mercy!
David and I sat in his bedroom as things calmed. I tried to explain the whole
thing. I wanted him to know why it was important he understood that I was
upset by his insults, or at least heard me out, and maybe could apply it later.
First, I explained what I really do on ifish.net. I honestly don't think he
understood what goes into it, what makes it tick, and what his Mom does. I'll
write later in the week, how I explained that to him. That's the fun part!
This part isn't.
David is very intelligent and is a very good listener. I didn't realize that
he hadn't a clue what happened to me, and what an aortic dissection entails.
I explained it to him the very best that I knew how. I believe that to this
day, my Dad still doesn't understand, nor does he have any wish to. I believe
that he just wants to think that I'm going to be fine... and I'm going to
leave it that way!
I explained to David, though, that a healthy aorta is like a hose, with many
layers inside, strongly held together to handle the intense flow of blood.
It's like particle board! But in Marfan Syndrome, my layers were not strongly
held together, and had become 'unglued'. I told him that the blood flow then
went through the individual layers, instead of through the hose, like it should
be. The pressure built up and burst through, because the layers themselves
were not strong enough.
This separation of layers began in my carotid artery where it split, and traveled
all the way down, past my heart, and to my iliac arteries near my legs. This
happened while I traveled in the ambulance from Tillamook to Portland. The
doctors in Portland were only able to repair the ascending aorta, where they
inserted a St. Judes Valve, and reinforced my ascending aorta.
My descending aorta is still separated into layers, all the way down to my
iliac. It is very fragile, and can burst very easily, as it did, above. If
it does, well... it isn't possible to repair.
Upon release from the hospital, they didn't realize that the layers of my
aorta had collapsed, and were acting as a wind sock in my abdomen. My blood
was traveling from my heart to my waist, and back up again! Very little blood
flow was getting through to my legs. That's why my feet were numb and I couldn't
walk. They put in stents to help that. As it is now, I have pain and trouble
with my legs and feet, but I can walk!
These days I have Cat Scans every six months to check if the layers look weaker
anywhere. If they do, then I will have another 12 hour open heart surgery,
to try to repair it. That could save me!
"Oh! But I'm not looking forward to that!" I laughed with David.
I do alright with the concept of my own mortality, like I said, and I did
alright telling David this information.
I'll tell you one, thing, though, that still tears me up, and it tore me to
pieces, telling David.
No one loves you like your own Mother.
The one person that I really wanted to comfort me when I was very ill and
scared in the hospital was my Mother. I wanted it so badly, that I have one
vivid memory of when my heart stopped, during surgery.
I saw her, there. I'm not much for the cosmic side of things, but I know for
a fact, that my Mother was there, with me in spirit. I saw her.
There was a time during surgery that part of a valve sheered off in the dissection.
This is when they took a vein out of my leg to repair it. I guess it was a
scary time and they almost lost me. Boy, did they ever do a messy job on my
leg! The doctor apologized, but said it wasn't a beauty option, and was in
a bit of a hurry. I tend to think that is when my Mom was there.
Anyhow...
My son Andrew has Marfan Syndrome, too. Andrew may someday have a dissection
in his aorta. I want him to have it repaired before it happens. That could
save his life!!! But he is a teenager. He is reluctant and invincible.
I am not so afraid of my own death, but I do have one incredible, insurmountable
fear that haunts me. I totally lost it, as I told David.
"David", I continued.
"I am so scared I won't be there for Andrew if this happens to him. Please.
If Andrew has a dissection, I want you to hold his hand."
There I sat on his unmade bed, roles reversed, just sobbing! I was as a small
child. My shoulders shook uncontrollably. I was shaken, fragile, and sobbing.
Pop cans were sideways on the TV and clothes were strewn unfolded on the floor.
I sat uncomplaining, legs dangling, nervously kicking a dirty towel.
There was silence in the room, as I got up to leave. I reached the hall and
I heard a quiet voice.
"Mom?"
I turned and through teary eyes saw David coming towards me. He held out his
arms and he took me in. My little boy had broad man shoulders! As he held
me, I felt so small against him. I wanted so badly to stay there and be comforted
by son. My own son. Just a small piece of little boy left, but nearly a grown
man.
Instead, I stayed for only a moment, before I pulled back, and in my best
"internet troll" impersonation, said, "Could you please finish
cleaning your room?"
March 15th
Steelhead are so frustrating. I swear, just as you think you
know what to use for what kind of water and conditions, the rules change.
No Bites. With resignation, I headed back over the slippery rocks. My legs
were starting to collapse. Still, I thought to myself, this is the furthest,
and the longest period of time that I've fished, since my heart surgery. Good
on me!
I laughed to myself "Made it" is different to me than for some others.
I was plum exhausted, and my legs, bowlegged and unsure, barely carried me
over the uneven terrain.
My hands were cold. My frozen fingers loosely wrapped around my rod in one
hand. The line bowed in the wind before me as I studied a First Bite Jig,
attached to the line, and in my other hand. Sometimes I'm just too lazy to
attach it to a guide, but it makes for good inspection time. Is my hook sharp?
Is my jig in good condition?
I had been using a shrimp tail on my jig, and the water was really low. The
way I attach them works really well for me. They stay on a bunch longer. I
fold them in half, run it over the point of the hook, then reverse the shrimp,
and catch the other side with the tip of the hook. Perfect! It stays put!
But the shrimp tail method hadn't worked in any of the places that I had confidence
this morning, so I got desperate, as sometimes we do. I thought perhaps a
whole darn shrimp would do the trick. I was determined! But, no! More was
not better! I had worked my way almost all the way back again, globbing on
way too much shrimp trying to buy a bite!
Earlier I had been so confident! So sure! Singing, chanting, "A fish
with every casssst!
A fish with every casssst!"
Mockingly, arrogantly, I cast my jig to the wind. I had worked every pocket
from what we call the bedroom hole, to the upper stretches, as far as I could
see.
The forecast looked gloomy as I headed back down river. Then it hit me! Aren't
we desperate? I thought, "Less is best!", and the
chanting resumed,
"Low water less!"
"Low water less!"
"When the water's not big, don't put lots on your jig!"
I stopped, held close my jig and studied. I noticed that just the tip of a
shrimp tail dangled off of my hook. I took a practice cast. It held!
This is the trick!
This is the thing that the steelhead will pick!
It's rare that I'll give up until I'm forced to. It's true.
So, standing well above a chute of water three feet deep, I called my dog
to my side, so he wouldn't spook anything that held there, or further down.
I cast. It drifted through. Nada. I pulled it back. Shrimp bite still in place,
I walked forward two steps. Repeat.
Mid river on the Kilchis, past the chute, runs a swift rolling riffle, five
feet across, with silent shallows on either side. I've never caught a fish
there, but what the heck? I thought I'd troll home. The fish were obviously
absent, or holding in different spots.
As I walked along, I let the bobber flow free in front of me. The water flow
was exactly the speed of my slow and burdened walking pace.
I was lost in thought, nearly giving up on fish. I was almost home. I was
concentrating deeply on figuring out where the steelhead had been. I was thinking
of why the darned heck I had failed, today. What could I have done differently?
...and hey! At least I was still on two legs!
I was strolling along, watching my bobber go up a roller, and come down, go
up! and down... I was mesmerized, lost in thought. Up and down.
On or near the fourth or fifth wave, my bobber started down over the hilly
current, and...and... and... it kept going down!
Oh, a thousand miracle of all miracles!
I was trying to take in this information and it wouldn't process! My mind
was stopped up like a beaver dam! Bobber up! Bobber down, Jennie! Fish on!
Jennie, there is a fish on your bobber! JENNIE!
Ever had trouble getting through to your brain? I had a fish on, for Pete's
sake! Do something!
I furiously reeled in the slack that almost gathered at my feet. Fearing a
loop in my line, I held the other hand on the rod, guiding the misplaced mono
onto the spool, until finally I felt contact with something wild and moving!
I came back on it hard, giving it a surprised thwomp, I'm sure!
"Wake up, Mr. Steelheaddddddddd! You are busted! I got you now!"
I threw back my head and laughed out loud. (How cruel can a woman be?)
It sassed back! No kidding! It zipped across the water, taking spool off of
my Calcutta like there was no tomorrow! I had just filled this reel with fresh
line, and it was ready to play!
"Oh no!" I remembered. I am much too tired for this! My heart beat
much faster, much harder than it should! I scanned the river for boaters.
Someone! "Someone is going to have to help me, here!" I screamed
out loud! "This is no tiny trout!"
With no one within earshot but an eagle soaring overhead, I had to think twice.
Yes, I wanted to play with this fish, but no, I didn't want to die! My heartbeat
increased as the steelhead nearly pulled me into the water! Whatever to do?
Quickly, I switched hands in which the pressure was exerted. You know what?
I'm no good at playing a fish left handed!
This fish wasn't even big! It would have gone maybe 9 pounds! But somehow,
and I believe this with all of my heart, there is no better fighting fish
than a Kilchis wild steelhead! I glanced at the sandy beach behind me. I considered
sitting down, but that was just too weird.
This fish took line off my reel again and again! I'd work it in, clumsily,
reeling with the wrong hand, and it would take it right back out again! I
switched back to my experienced hand and did it again. Out the line went,
yet again! I don't know how many times we played tug-o-war, but by the time
the fish was finally at hand, I know that between that hen and I, I was by
far, the most tired of the two girls! I know that because even as I reached
down to gently pull the hook out of her mouth with my pliers, she still jumped!
Right at my feet! No way could I have jumped! No way!
I spoke to her, in a soothing, calm voice. "Please Mrs. Fish... Mrs.
pretty fish with the sea lice on your sides, let me help you. I want to let
you go."
That beautiful fish finally let me have a quick stab at the wound. The hook
was removed without so much as a touch from my pliers. Like a torpedo, jetting
her way back to the current that rolls up and down, up and down... she gave
one last, parting jump before she faded into the quiet and tedious motion
of the Kilchis river.
And that, my friends, is stuck solid in my memory.
It's well past time for a rest, for me, and please remember, less is best
in low water. That is, until next time, when the fish change the rules again.
March 17th
Sometimes I linger in bed for a bit, lately.
I used to get up so fast. It's always amazed folks. I go from a dead sleep
to wide awake!
Whoosh! I'd start my day. The dogs dance around my feet, knowing full well
that after they do their outside duties, they'll be rewarded with a treat.
The coffee waits, already made. Thank God for small pleasures! New things
like auto set coffee!
Warm, cozy slippers and a soft robe draping from my shoulders. It softens
the harsh transition that comes with being horizontal. It feels much like
I'm taking a little piece of bed and the soft down comforter with me!
But on some days I'm almost afraid to rise. My mind is jammed with ifish.
You would not believe the drama!
In the evening, Bill sometimes asks me, "So what's the drama of the day?"
"Which one?" I laugh.
No kidding! Sometimes I read through the topics on the mod board and by mid
morning, I shake my head in disbelief. No way could we have covered that many
topics in so little time! How on earth could anyone keep their head on straight?
My moderators are saints. I've asked them repeatedly, "Why do you do
it?"
Ifish is my baby. No, I don't get paid much. Not even minimum wage. (Far from
it, in fact!) But, it's mine. Why on earth would someone expose themselves
to this kind of abuse for someone else's baby?
Of course, I laugh. It's not all bad. But there are times when they are mistreated.
There are times when they upset other members while trying to uphold the rules
of ifish.
I run a tidy ship. I can't even say that, really, because on a ship, sailors
talk... well, sailors talk the way sailors talk!
The good ship "ifish" is in port. It stays in port, and it is visitors
day! We don't talk on ifish, like sailors talk at sea. Now, that is a difficult
thing to ask of these salty fishermen and women! It totally goes against the
current!
OK, and get this. We have built a community, four times the size of Tillamook.
We have no police force, and no government.
Ever heard of the video game Sim City? Building ifish, or any online community
is somewhat like that. I have found that you should think ahead, and make
rules in the beginning that shall be followed as the community grows.
Oops! I didn't know that at first! Totally unsuspecting that ifish would grow
like it has, we have made the rules, as we go along. I've had to post a disclaimer
on the Acceptable Use Policy:
We reserve the right to change these membership rules at any time.
Therefore, you should review them periodically to make certain that you continue
to agree with them.
Remember that! Each and every one of you! I just have to laugh more, as I
read that. It's the way it is! I come across a problem, and think, "Oh,
shoot! Another rule needs to be added!" Thanks be to the community for
helping me to write the rules, and by golly, keep writing them!
The AUP, as it is called for short, is growing. I have tried so hard to 'write
tight', but that's a tough cookie! I refer back to these rules, and we quote
them while swabbing the decks.
So each morning, as of late, I linger... hesitating, before I walk down the
gangplank to the day's duties. I hope to the heaven's that all the crew will
be aboard, and all of the passengers, happy. I hope for calm seas, and a smooth
sail.
But, just as the forecast changes, the seas can rise and fall with tremendous
force and without notice. Sometimes I sleep fitfully in my bunk, with the
seas still rolling beneath me.
In the midst of these storms, I click links cautiously, and hope to God I
don't hear the words, "Abandoned Ship!" or "May Day! May Day!"
But, just like people are drawn to the ocean and addicted to fishing, they
are drawn back to what once was a little community, called ifish.net.
And just like the storms come, the red sky at night promises a sailor's delight.
As long as it is in my hands ifish will be a tightly run ship with shining,
swabbed decks. The crew will wear neatly pressed uniforms and will be there
to greet new passengers, warmly.
And even though I rise a bit more slowly, I rise, nonetheless. It's the energy
of the crew, the excitement of a new fisher with a beautiful catch, a group
of members that have gathered together to help a bill pass, or a warm note
of encouragement that keeps me boarding the ship, day after day.
March 21st
Just thought I'd check in, as I've been sick for a couple days.
Actually, haven't felt good since the Sportsman Show, but now I've got some
darn fever. I had a meeting yesterday and then spent the afternoon at the
doctor's where they took a bunch of blood tests and other things.
The good news is that I hadn't been to that doc' in three months! WOW! Now,
there's a record! However, I've kind of gotten to the point where I was really
sick of going to the doc', no matter what. You know, there comes a time when
you just decide you aren't going to cure anything and you settle in, feeling
however you feel! I'd just rather fish and try to forget all else!
And, fish, I have. Two days, ago, though, I just didn't feel good. Despite
it all, I bundled up and headed to the river. After three casts, I said to
myself, "Self, I really don't feel good!" So, self went back to
the house, upstairs, and that's where I've been, (in bed) since. I got up
yesterday to visit the doc'. Came home, upstairs I went, pulled the covers
high, and didn't come to until 6 this morning.
I have a meeting I don't want to miss at noon, today. As soon as I make it
past that, I'm heading back to the covers!
So, I've no fishing news, and thus, no reports. No fantastic pictures, no
shrieks of delight. After I clean up the house a bit, I may head out there
before the meeting, just to pass the time. Hey! After all, I have to stay
up till after noon! What better to do? I must be feeling a bit better, huh?
March 22nd
Of course, and as usual, I was fishing alone.
I was trying to break through a 'funk'. Somehow, with whatever virus I'm carrying
around, the symptoms include a 'funk', and although the fever had broken,
the funk remained.
I dragged out to the river bank. The chill of the evening seeped through my
clothes and onto my skin.
It was my third cast that my bobber went way down, fast, steady, almost like
a snag. I couldn't budge it off the bottom of the river, but I knew it was
alive.
Barely, but life it was, no doubt.
I screamed to the boys. For the first time in forever, this was the one time
that their windows were both shut tight. Do you know how many times I complain
to them to shut their windows in the winter to keep in the heat? Do you know???
They had obeyed and I was ticked!
This fish was burrowed so deep that I couldn't budge him off the bottom. I
felt an odd quiver, which I thought to be the line, vibrating in the current.
"It's too late for salmon", I thought to myself. "Isn't it?"
What was this? Furthermore, what was I going to do with it? I had just come
out to calm myself. I hadn't even taken my meds, that were due at 5. It was
nearing 6. I panicked. My heart was racing. I screamed again.
HELPPPPPPPPPP!!
ANDREWWWW!! DAVID!!
HELPPPPPPPPPP!!
BILLLLLLLLLLL!!
HELPPPPPPPPP!!
And I meant it, most sincerely.
Kilchis wagged his tail, excitedly.
If this was anything, any sort of fish the size that I thought it was, I was
going to need help. I should just break it off. I quickly checked for pliers
with wire cutters. Yep, I had them, but I couldn't! I just couldn't!
Who in the world, who in their right mind, could break off a huge steelhead,
that may very well be a life time catch? EVEN if it risked my life?
"Not me", I firmly answered myself aloud. "Not me!" I
yelled louder.
"HELLLLLLLP! BILLLLLLLLL! DAVIDDDD!!"
My heart raced faster, and for no reason. Just increasing terror, increasing
pandemonium, on hold. The fish, the life, the breathing, quivering mass at
the bottom of the river, held fast and heavy. I let up on the tension and
took a calming breath. It reminded me of going through childbirth. Breath
in.... breath out..... hold!
Finally I felt motion, but it was different. It wasn't like the acrobatics
of a normal steelie. It was a slow, casual, watery drag from one rock in the
depths, to another. Did this fish even know he was hooked? I felt ignored
by this fish. I felt like he wasn't giving me near enough attention. So I
jerked a bit, to set the hook, firmly.
Fear raced through my every pore. I broke out in a cold sweat.
Two facts held in my mind.
One, that no one would ever know what I was about to do, and second, that
my dissection might burst. I wonder if that fear will ever, ever ease in my
mind?
It was the weirdest feeling, too... cuz on top of everything, I was still
depressed. Still in a funk over troubles at ifish, and over the fact that
I was about to pull in a huge monster steelhead, and no one would ever believe
me! Again! Last time I caught a 20 plus, I did it alone, and all I can do
is tell about it.
I wished for my camera, but what good would that do? As if I could manage
a picture, all by myself!
I knew God was giggling. Why would he provide this opportunity, only when
I'm alone?
Yes, I had prayed for a fish on my way out to the river. In my prayers, I
told him it a fish would cheer me, and yes, I believe that God has a wonderful
sense of humor!
A touch of frustration brushed over me. This wasn't funny! But just then,
the fish took off.
OK. Here we go! It was the same feeling as being on a roller coaster, and
feeling the car click, click, click, up the tracks.
Ready or not, dissection or not, truth or not, big fish or not, I was in for
the ride of my life.
It held steady as it moved along the bottom of the river. I walked with it
a ways on the sandy beach, following, heart thumping. My 1143 bent, my line
was as taught as a cable strung from a heavy equipment crane.
It shook it's head slowly back and forth like a chinook. It was stubborn and
mean, but I was, too. I was as tense as the operator of a crane, hoping with
all hope, that my cable wouldn't break.
The fish probably didn't even know I was attached to the other end. The fish,
not even panicked yet, just moved me along the river, slowly and deliberately,
and then... it stopped again.
I thought maybe it was fouled up in branches.
I knew that I shouldn't be doing this. Especially alone. I had bought some
walkie talkies just for this moment. Why didn't I have one?
Thoughts raced through my head. If only I could get one of the boys attention.
I knew Andrew would have his music up loud, or be playing his bass guitar.
David, TV on, or video games and he, intensely involved.
With the tension of my line still tight, I walked ALL the way to the top of
the trail. My line let out, as I stretched it up the hill, nearly falling.
I screamed again, closer to their rooms. I screamed at all of them, one by
one. "HELLLLP!" Like I was dying. Hey! I might if I didn't have
... "Help me!" I whimpered, softly.
Just silence! The fish must have heard me, thought, because just then, it
came to life, but never like any ordinary steelhead!
This one was a brute, a bully, a big guy. I felt like I was dragging a football
player around. Slow, forceful, in meaningful, swift strides.
It ran, steady and strong, all the way to the riffles, a city block downstream!
I couldn't fight it. I figured I was about to go for a long walk. I stumbled
back down the trail, giving up on any sort of miserable help. I tripped to
my right, over tree root balls, and kept going. This fish was NOT going to
stop, and I couldn't make it all the way down to where it was headed. I had
no hip boots! No waders! Was I about to swim? Maybe! I tried that ole, "give
him a belly of line, maybe he'll turn" thing. It worked! He turned!
The ball was in my court, again but there was still time on the clock to lose.
The fight went on for what seemed like a long time, with a million thoughts
in my head. I don't know how many times I screamed for help, but that was
tiring me out as much as the fish, so I gave up.
I took breaks. One hand, then the other. The crook of one arm, then the other.
I squatted and rested the rod on my arm, and pulled back, pumping the rod
like a lever.
It headed for shore. I knew it would spook when it sucked sand. I grabbed
the line with my hand and it cut, cleanly through my fingers. Blood poured.
The whole time I'm thinking whether I should just cut the dang line. I couldn't.
I needed to see it. I had to. I'd come this far. I could do this! I could!
I took a cleansing breath.
Fighting that solid will for success was that ole', "Who cares, anyhow?"
No one will believe me. No one. I was the only one to see it... again!
Finally, tired, it neared me, and despite my depression, I drew in a strong
breath. I tried to calm myself.
It was HUGE.
Salmon? It looked like one, but with a strong red brushstroke glowing down
it's lateral line, I knew it couldn't be.
It was a steelhead. A monster from the sea, headed back to
sea, obviously. Wow. Would it live to be yet another salt, again?
Not if I didn't get it loose, sometime soon!
So, pliers in hand I reached down, and as I did, it turned completely over,
like it was playing dead. I was sick. Was it dead? Had I hurt it?
I grabbed my rod butt, and dunked it under water. Using it as a measuring
stick, I held it down it's length, from tip of tail to nose. It spread from
the butt of my rod, to the first guide, and beyond an inch.
OH MY GOSH. It was swine!!!
I quickly reached down and unhooked the jig and it took off like a flash.
I was ticked. I wanted to admire it longer. I wanted to stare at it for a
long, long time.
I held the measurement on my rod between my two hands, and headed up to the
house, totally breathless, and afraid of what might happen to me on the way.
I was NOT in good shape. I sucked fresh air in, deeply.
All of the sudden it didn't matter if I made it or not. It was almost as a
gift at the end of life. I really, really thought that was it. The drama in
this Mama could have ended the story, there. I thought of how many stories
I'd heard, and that it was a good way to go.
Somehow, though, I didn't want my life to end. Funny, I shook my head. I had
been so depressed, I thought I didn't care. I guess I was wrong!
Knowing full well that I might not be believed, I held up the rod, for Bill
to measure.
I breathlessly, began the story.
You won't believe this, but check it out! On an 1143, that would be 42 inches!
Bill measured it, and as he did, he shouted, unbelievingly, "NO!"
"What, Bill?"
"Even if you missed it by an inch, it's way over 20 pounds."
See? I told you he wouldn't believe me.
Only I know the truth, and the truth is, that fish was unbelievable! I totally
understand any doubt!
But you know what? Even long gone, I can still see that fish, right now, and
I believe.
And I'll never, ever forget!
Bill is headed out, now, to see if he can catch him again. I think I'll go,
too.
March 23rd
Oh my, but it's an ever changing world!
Just when things seemed to be returning to normal!
This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to write, because it's centered
around someone else, and because it is breaking my heart.
How do you write about what someone else's struggles when it is such a personal
battle?
I tried to get some answers from Bill. How much should I tell? What do you
give me permission to say? Argh! He couldn't answer.
I'll just tell you this.
Earlier in the week, Bill went for a physical. He asked to have some tests
done. The doc patted him on the back, told him he was healthy, and unless
he heard from him, that he'd see him in a year!
Well, yesterday, (was it just yesterday?) the doctor's nurse called.
"Is this Mrs. Hedlund?"
No.
"Is Mr. Hedlund there?"
No, I'm sorry, he's fishing.
"We would like Bill to come in, first thing in the morning."
Silence....
That scares me!
"Well, I am just doing as I was asked. Can you hold, please?"
Holding. Holding. Holding for an eternity, heart racing.
"Can he come in, in an hour?"
Yes. I'll let him know.
Let the pacing commence! I paced that bedroom floor for quite
a while, my mind screaming. Should I drive up to the park and get him? Is
this serious? Am I going crazy? Is something wrong with his tests? He had
a CT of his lungs yesterday. This does not sound right. Why does he need to
come in?
When Bill got home, I had rehearsed over and over what to say, how to conduct
myself, but I couldn't help it. I just cried.
"Bill, I'm worried. The doctor wants you to come in, as soon as possible."
(Later he said that he had been so relieved that it wasn't about me. I guess
I can relate to that, now, as I see what he went through when it was about
me.)
We waited agonizing minutes, with a hundred scenarios going through our heads.
Finally, the answer. They found a mass in his right upper lobe of his lung.
There is a 98 percent possibility that it is cancer. Lung cancer.
It is small. Just 2 cms. Bigger than a marble, smaller than a golf ball, and
they are so relieved he caught it early! They called him lucky! I don't know,
but lucky and cancer don't seem to fit, in my mind.
However, I am glad to hear that part!
He is going in next Wednesday to have it read by a surgeon from St. Vincent
Hospital and may very well go directly into surgery from there.
Wednesday? We have to wait until Wednesday?
I will keep you as updated as I can, but please... please pray for Bill.
That the time will pass quickly, until then. That the report will remain positive.
That Bill will remain positive.
He was so excited for spring chinook fishing, and gardening, and for Spring
in general! I have a feeling it's going to be a tough, no fun spring. This
makes my heart sink. Just as I'm coming around. I'm thanking God that I am
strong enough to help him through this.
I have hope, and I'm going to face this with positive feelings!
Hope! Hope! Hope-- for the future!
And until next Wednesday, let's all wish him the biggest steelhead in the
river!
Why then, do I cry?
Our conversations seem to consist of,
"Oh, Bill..."
and a very simple, short answer,
"I know."
March 25th
Yikes! Hobart called last night, and had enjoyed something an
ifisher had written. It was late, and I was groggy. I told him sure... he
could mention it! Then, this morning I read it! Uh oh! It's way against the
AUP to link non sponsor pages, and this particular article was chock full
of them! Sometimes I wonder why we wrote the Acceptable Use Policy. People
don't read it!
So, with the help of the mod team, we decided to leave a couple up, and delete
the ones that were googleable. (Product sales). Anyhow, please enjoy this
article, if you listened to Hobart this morning, and are having trouble finding
the link.
Aluminum
Boats and Crevice Corrosion By "Strikefighter".
Anyhoo--- I'm having company this morning to fish out back. I've been enjoying
this late March fishing so much! It's actually so good that you 'can' expect
a fish with every cast. It's a great time to take beginners out for steelies
with jigs. Have at it! There is wonderful access to the Wilson, all along
Hiway 6. Just please, handle the fish with care. If you are fishing alone,
I really don't think you should try to take a picture. It's hard to do! Just
enjoy your time on the river, and keep your mental image of those beautiful
creatures in your mind. I find that those are the best pictures, anyhow!
If you want to fish the Kilchis, it's best, via hiring a guide, since most
of the property is private.
I hope you have a beautiful day! It's crisp, frozen and clear out, this morning.
I can see for miles, and miles.... OK, now I have a song stuck in my head
for the day! Off I go! Time to make the cinnamon rolls!
March 26th
Did you know that when you pour cold coffee, it sounds different
than hot coffee?
I can't explain it, but it does. Try it. It's really disappointing, too. I
just came in from the pouring rain and hail. The two hour timer light had
gone off and I hoped it was hot enough to at least warm me up. But as I poured
it I knew from the sound. It was cold. Yuck.
I really wanted to catch that 'first light' fish. I might as well. David left
his TV on all night, below me in his bedroom, and I don't think I slept more
than a couple hours, all night. I was up, anyhow.
So, I tried. I even almost did it! I hooked it! On my fifth cast, my bobber
dug a watery grave. Down it went! The fish immediately popped out of the water
like a jack in the box, doin' that whirly chrome thing. I was ready for him
to land. I gave him slack and... and... my bobber flew back and hit me in
the face! That wasn't very nice, either!
My jig was gone. Broke loose right where I felt that burr in my line, yesterday.
Will I learn? Ever?
So, cold coffee and a bobber to your face, Jennie! Good morning!
Oh, but what fun we had, yesterday! It was a pajama party on the river! Click
here to see! Yes, sir! That is Pete in his pajamas, fishing the Kilchis
river! From all of the stories of me wearing PJ's, he thought sure that was
the trick! I couldn't believe he did that, but he did! The proof is in the
pic! I don't know how many times I have to say it. It's the lipstick. Not
the clothes!
I had some friends over to fish. As soon as we all were rigged up, I had this
brilliant idea! Let's all cast at the same time! I can't believe it, but I
made them do it! "Ready, set, Cast!"
The bobbers flew through the air! I was certain that someone would catch something!
It's the first cast times four!
No luck. Darn! It would have been such fun!
You know, fishing has been so good on the Kilchis, I thought sure that everyone
would have fun! I thought they'd go home with cinnamon rolls in their belly,
and memories of ferocious, fighting fish.
Well, the rolls were good!
I finally caught one fish! That was it! All morning long! (I caught a nice
evening fish, too, but only one while company was here!)
It was fun, though, and I'm really glad they came. How many days left of late
steelies? It's going to be hard to go from this spoiled life of catching fish
several times a day, to.... nothing! A closed river! Yikes!
I'm already planning for Bill's recovery and wellness, though. Late May or
so? What happens on the coast then?
"Springers, Bill! Springers!"
We'll be ready!
In the meanwhile, coffee-less, I think I'll take a nap.
Or, maybe the water is rested enough to try it again. Yeah... that's what
I'll do.
March 29th
Spring is here
Why doesn't my heart go dancing?
Spring is here
Why isn't the waltz entrancing?
I can take a lot. I'm pretty tough. This week, though... has
just been darn hard.
Yesterday was so beautiful! Somehow, the joy of spring and the sunshine on
my shoulders was overshadowed by Bill's recent news.
You know... a little over a year ago, I suffered an aortic dissection. I made
it through that pretty well! It was tough going. I'm still adapting, but I'm
making progress, each day!
Just as I was making progress, and we were both ready for spring chinook,
Bill has been diagnosed with cancer. This news has been devastating, and scary.
'Life altering' kind of scary.You have no idea how tough it is, until you
experience it. The waiting, the wondering, the worrying! But, you know what?
we are going to make it through this! We have Faith.
Those two things are pretty big though, and it's hard, so close together.
But, last night we both agreed.
The toughest thing, is yet to come and we both don't know how we will handle
it. I'm really not sure that either one of us are strong enough to withstand
this last final blow that's yet to hit us.
You might want to be seated, before we tell you the news.
Come April 1st, our river is closed to angling.
Closed to angling of any sort! Can you believe that?
They say bad things happen in threes. Whoever is in charge, you sure dialed
our number! We can make it through burst aortas! We can make it through cancer!
But, the river closures? HELP!
Bill and I laughed over this, last night... wondering if it was in bad taste
to joke about something so serious. Well, if it is, we apologize. However,
there sure rings a bit of truth in it for us, and humor is a wonderful way
to cope with stress. So laugh we do, and often!
I'll tell you. Bill heard that bad news diagnosis last Tuesday. It was a complete
shock. We were instructed to wait until the following Wednesday to meet with
the surgeon. What a long and agonizing week it's been! Finally, today is Wednesday!
But, still, it's morning... and this is going to be an agonizingly slow wait
until 1:00 PM, today.
What happens after that, we don't know.
Of course, I couldn't sleep, last night. I crawled out of bed at 5 in the
morning, grabbed my rod, and headed out to the river.
I love "first light" fish. No one else was stirring.
Just the wild life. And I don't necessarily mean animals, I mean the wild
life!
Oh! It is wild and it is life!
It is a wild dream come true, this life, living here on the Kilchis! The soft
rain in the soggy warmth of spring, and the green, and
the green, and
the green!
The water flows softly, recovering from winter. The tiny leaves, break out
of what seemed to be dead wood. One single, early purple blossom peeks out
at me from the tall grass. It's just me, alone, my boots bending the grasses
down to create a wet, soggy trail down to the river. I'm sneaking out, headed
out to live this wild life while I am still able!
The anticipation nearly kills me. Both for news of Bill's diagnosis, and of
fish. My heart races. Soon, my fishing rod will be bent over with flashing
chrome, interrupting all peace on the river!
Oh! The wildlife!
Oh! The fish!
I know that they are there. Even if the water is so low and clear that I can
read the rocks on the bottom of the river like a topo map, my confidence is
high. I can't see them, but I just know they are there.
I was right.
Standing in the rocks, well back from the normal platform of sand, I tried
my best to pre measure the increased distance of my cast. With a whole bunch
of doubt, I cast my line, trying to make my mark. It landed just two feet
shy of my usual, so I was fine with it. In fact, with the river so low and
clear, I decided it may be a good thing.that it landed well away from where
they could the bobber splash. I avoided spooking them, this way. I worked
the bobber into the usual current, and sure enough! Down, bobber, down!
It was a cutthroat, but what a beautiful cutthroat, indeed! I marveled at
the spots, and was surprised at the healthy girth of this fish, so early in
the spring. She was heavy and healthy and spry! Measuring at least 17 inches
long, I quickly popped the jig out and wished her well on her way.
I stopped and admired the quiet around me. Somehow, after the release of any
fish, an especially marked quiet closes over the river. The silence startles
me, surrounds me, even though it happens nearly every time.
The quiet stopped as my mind returned to Bill, and his current struggles.
The time we have spent waiting this week seems unending. Longer than any river
closure! That's for sure! Every year, it's a long, long, wait. Clear from
the first of April, to the fourth Saturday in May.
But, you know what? We have always made it. And when we return to the river
each May, we do so filled with joy and excitement, and life, renewed.
And so will that life be new for for Bill, just like it was for me as I got
better, come spring, last year.
We both have confidence that he will get through this difficult time, and
that we both have much to look forward to in life.
I'll never forget my first real fish after my surgery. I just plopped down
on the motor cover and cried. The fish flopped in the bottom of the boat.
Bill was absolutely shocked at my reaction. It was a beautiful big springer,
and he expected laughter and joy, not tears! But those tears were
tears of joy, and tears of surprise, and tears of a little bit of fear, but
mostly, tears that I just so darn happy to be alive!
I have a feeling, that we are going to have a lot in common, once he's ready
to fish again. Bill probably won't cry when he lands his first big fish, post
surgery... but I think he'll totally understand where my tears came from on
that day, and why they are flowing, now.
What a life to look forward to, here on the Kilchis river!
Warm spring sunshine, the opening of the river, the beginning of coastal spring
chinook, and most importantly, the start of Bill's new life!
I think... both our hearts will go dancing.
March 31st
Man. No fair! This is the last day on the river! I must go get
sand shrimp! See ya in a bit, Marie!
Most people know by now that Bill will be just fine. I'd never heard someone
with cancer get a diagnosis of "100 percent chance of total recovery"
until Bill's appointment! When he said that, and added that his lung function
would not be impaired by the surgery, Bill and I both flashed a glance at
one another, and returned gleaming smiles! Oh, wow! Praise God! That's all
I could think! Thank you, Lord!
The surgeon said that he just doesn't see many cases of this diagnosed so
early. It was like magic or something that Bill insisted on a C.T. of his
lungs. The good doc' originally refused Bill's request. Bill insisted. Isn't
that just wonderful that he did? It was like a premonition!
Yesterday, without rod in hand, I practiced walking along the river, without
fishing on my mind. I got a small dose of what summer might feel like. The
air was warm and moist. Clouds hung low in the sky, unmoving, threatening
rain. I was dressed in a long sleeved cotton shirt. No coat, no hat, no gloves.
There was not a whisper of wind.
The rocks were bone dry, from several days without rain, several shades of
green mossy shapes, some white, some original slate gray.
I almost expected that our blackberries were ripe, hanging from their vines.
It really felt like late July, but certainly not March! The river was low
and clear. I was able to study the entire river structure.
Without notice, big, fat raindrops began falling from the sky. I stopped short,
and gazed around my feet, watching those huge drops hit the rocks, hard. Talk
about colorful! All around me a polka dot rainbow of color! Mossy greens to
bleached whites, all with splotchy black dots!
The rain felt good at first, on my hatless head. Soon, the water worked it's
way through my hair, and brought a chill. This brief preview of summer had
ended. It was enough, though, to make me anxious for those long, lazy days!
As I headed back to the house, I couldn't help but forego the trail home,
and keep my pace down river to check out the spawning beds, where the steelhead
are working.
My clothes were beginning to soak through. I lifted my hand to my eyes, blocking
the glare and stared to the shallows. It has taken years of practice for me
to learn to "see" them. I have no good vision, but I do think there
is a method to seeing them that must be learned. Bill, with perfect eyesight,
agrees.
We stop where the angle is right, and where we see areas of lighter gravel
on the river bed. These are the redds. Whether they are active or a finished
work of art, is the question. We scan the redds until we see what looks like
a stick, or a log in the water. There are several, so 'several' must be in
your field of vision all at the same time. It's difficult, because the rain
brought a slight breeze. It blew across the riffles and skewed my riverscape.
The sun has to be at the perfect angle, the river, a perfect depth. It was!
Sure enough, one of those "logs" began to move. Then another! Then
another! Pretty soon I was focused on a three fish school of activity working
over a redd! And sure enough, the water ballet commenced!
If there were music, it had to be Debussy!
The Petit Suite, to be exact! (Listen, if you like! I used to play this
with my Mom, four hands!) I heard that so clearly as I watched. Who needs
the real thing?
Once you get a glimpse of the activity, it is very hard to stop watching.
I think of it as watching a solar eclipse or such. Is it a private thing?
Should I be watching? But, I can't stop!
I stood there watching the amazingly graceful motions of three beautiful steelhead
make their way to the top of the redd, turn, and flash back downstream. Then
the slow return, sometimes fighting off the competing buck, sometimes darting
around in circles. Using sweeping movements of her tail, the female digs out
a gravel nest and protects it. It truly is a dance! It truly is magical! And
I truly was getting soaked to the bone! My stick-still stance was getting
wobbly. I was miserable.
I had to sit! I had to! I had to stay!
I shivered, as I found a place up the bank, a bit. I found a great log in
the forested grandstands. Surrounded by sticky briars and deadwood that burst
with tiny new leaves, I searched again for activity. It was easy to find,
the second time.
As the rain fell, as my hair turned to soggy strands and stuck wet to my neck,
I watched. I don't know how long I watched, but Kilchis was able to dig some
pretty deep and dangerous holes around me!
In fact, one of the areas that the log I was perched upon soon fell crashing
to the ground!
I landed with a hard bump! "Oh, Kilchis!"
The show must be over-- at least for me! I was wet and now dirty, and it hit
me to the bone. I was cold!
Well, it's morning, and Bill just called. First out of his mouth:
"How much rain did we get?"
".09" I sighed.
"Ohhhhhh...." The disappointment hit.
The river is still low and clear. The last day of fishing won't be much.
"But, oh, Bill! You should see the redds! They are active!" I went
on and on telling him about what I had seen and what I had heard, just as
I have, here!
He was interested, but the lack of rain shadowed his excitement and robbed
his attention.
I guess he's right. I should be sad.
But, like I said. I have to practice! After all, we have two months of river
closures ahead, and I have to be excited for what happens in the river, besides
fishing! Yesterday was a great start!
Each year I am amazed at the joy and the excitement that the river brings
me, without rod in hand. I don't look forward to it, but I look back on it
quite fondly! There is so much life in the river, even when it seems dead!
It's not that bad, I tell myself. There are Spring chinook to catch in other
rivers.
I'm going to see this river half full, rather than half empty! Seeing it close
up has taught me so much!
FISHING THE
COAST
A journal of my adventures.