Just one Good Fish Lord.....then one more
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right now Ilana is staying with friends in Santa Fe and I am tent camping and fishing the famous San Juan River in Northern New Mexico. the stream for eight miles below the dam is classified as trophy trout water; fly fishing only and strictly catch and release. there are literally thousands of fish per mile in this stretch and they average 16 to 20 inches with some going bigger
This paragraph is a month later in our trip. our plans changed and we did not go to Montana. Instead we went to Southern California and worked on fixing up my Dad's house (which is now a rental property) and then took off to the Eastern Sierra for a couple of months. we are staying in a trailer park at the edge of a beautiful sparkling blue reservoir in Bridgeport, California, which is just twenty miles north of Mono Lake. the lake is also a bird sanctuary, harboring huge flocks of stately white pelicans, finely painted grebes, regal eagles that make bald look good, long legged cranes, great blue herons, and many varieties of geese and ducks. I took a picture of a flock of black birds with bright yellow breasts on a lakeside bush, some with red heads. Not sure what the were, orioles? Tanagers?
the sunsets here are spectacular and the morning light on the jagged escarpment of the Eastern Sierra is rich and dramatic
the next day I went back to Virginia Lakes with Chance and we hiked up into the wilderness for miles, through groves of Aspen, fir, pine and cedar, past babbling crystal clear creeks choked with wildflowers, past towering rock monoliths finely carved by the ages. Chance got to swim after sticks in four different alpine lakes along the way and drank from clear streams. He was in dog heaven. I got him to pose for a picture at two of the lakes. He doesn't know why we do it but he totally gets the picture taking thing. a couple of hikers sitting by the lake told me, "I couldn't believe the way your dog posed for that picture!". I said, "Yeah, he's a real ham.".
I, of course, have been fishing at every opportunity and Ilana is certain that I have taken the sport past any reasonable extreme. Perhaps I am an addict but for me it is a fine madness, and certainly less harmful than drugs or alcohol. Rivers are the arteries of the earth and standing in mountain water with my head in mountain sky I feel more in the moment, more alive
I guess the only way to sign off is, "gone fishin."