“Tomorrow we will go camera shopping”

Fishing on the Middle Fork of the Willamette River, Oregon

Today I took my son fishing.   Father and son, out on the river, fishing together.  What could be better?  Turns out, a whole lot.

He caught the only fish.

I fell in the river – twice!  Being the outdoorsman that I am, when falling, one falls upstream so that your feet will stop you from floating downstream.  Unfortunately that is where the opening to my water proof waders is located.  They only filled up to the knees.  That opening is also where I kept my camera.

Took an hour break.  Took off all clothes.  Turned waders inside out to dry.  Got dressed.  Lost the urge to fish.

Tomorrow we will go camera shopping.

“If Sandi were there she would have caught something”

Fishing on the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the Willamette River, Oregon

After hauling my fly fishing gear 2225 miles from the desert environs of my home, I finally got to go fishing today.  Hooray!  A few days ago I got my lines checked, bought a fishing license ($60 for 7 days) and got directions from a downtown Eugene fly shop on where to fish without deep water.  I did not want to fall in and drown all by my lonesome.

So yours truly, the intrepid outdoorsman and well outfitted fly fisherman, headed up into the Cascades.  After about 40 miles I arrived at the little town of Westfir and decided to look around for a fly shop for further help.  Google did not have one, my brand new Garmin GPS did not have one, but there lo and behold a few miles away I came across “Bert’s Worms, Tackle and Ammo”.

I walked into the store and saw a grizzled old man behind the counter with a couple of identical yahoos shopping also.  Now these two guys had on grease stained overalls and identical plaid shirts with knives on their belts.  Being a smart ass at times I delivered the first salvo.

Smart Ass (me):  “I am going to take a wild guess and I bet your name is Bert”.

Bert:  “Almost. My real name is Count Englebert (hence the Bert) Von Shubenfrachstein.  (The last name was unpronounceable by me.)  My family goes back 1500 years from Austria where I still own a castle and land but do not want to go back there.  Never been in fact.  Never will.  There is my name on the ownership….yada yada yada….”  “Been right here 25 years.”

Me:  “Wow, that is interesting.  Who would have guessed a Count way up here.  I hope you can give me directions to a fishing hole up the river where I will not fall in and I need some advice on what to use for flies.”

Yahoo 1:  “Ya gotta use dem black ants or ya ain’t gonna catch nutin.”

Yahoo 2:  “Dat’s right!”  Then he grinned and showed all three of his teeth.

After that meaningful conversation Bert found me a couple of black ant ties and showed me ones his mother had tied 35 years ago in Missoula, Montana where she and a couple of her girl friends were famous for tie flying.  I bought the required, necessary, obligatory fly stuff, leaving mother’s flies for another day.  He gave me directions for some water 24 miles further upstream and I headed out.

First to go was my cell phone, then, along the tree covered canopy of elm and fir, my GPS went wacky. No satellite available.  No people either.  Ok, I can find this place, which I did and headed off the road.  That next road was ok, but in following directions I turned again onto a trail which had bushes all over the top and on the side that scraped the car.  After a mile or so I came to a dead end.  Got out and only a side stream, not the Willamette River.

About that time I heard twigs snap and rustling in the bushes.  My heart decided it was time to get back into the car.  Thoughts of that river in Georgia, Burt Reynolds, John Voight, banjos, canoes, bows and arrows with friendly neighbors up on the hill behind me came into my consciousness.  Wish I had not met the Yahoo twins.

I backtracked to the other side of the river where I found an agreeable site to challenge the trout.  I put on my waders, boots, fishing belt and hat.  Rigged the rod using my just bought ant imitation and was ready to test my fly fishing skills.  That is the above picture just before going wading in.

If Sandi were there she would have caught something.

We Still Have Better Rare Books

Powell’s Book Store, Portland, Oregon

Today was very interesting.   Here we are at the world famous (and very big by the way) bookstore in Portland, Oregon.  In the picture is Tara who worked for Pages for a year, Kelly my oldest daughter, Sean my youngest (and only) son, yours truly, and Kiara, Sean’s daughter.  We are blocking the checkout line to slow down the 5 registers that were running full blast.

This is probably one of a kind bookstore in downtown Portland.  It takes up a block plus 4 stories.  Not the book kind but the stairs kind.  They have more stores spread around town plus 3 at the airport.  Jeese!  Powell’s had more shoppers in one aisle at any moment than we have in our store all day.  But one consolation – their rare books did not even approach ours.  Yea for Pages!

Here is just a little note on the people in the picture to bring everyone up on family history.   Tara has moved from Phoenix-Georgia-Portland to continue her education in book publishing.  She is a voracious reader and loves English history.  Kelly lives in Seattle and is in the mortgage processing business.  She loves living in Seattle.  Why?  Sean and Kiara live in Eugene, home of the Ducks.   Everyone has heard of the University of Oregon Ducks because of their uniforms.  It is definitely worth watching them in sports because of their colorful outfits.  I am on the right and definitely photogenic as you probably guessed.

There is probably more I want to elucidate here but it is time for a VO.

Fighting for Candy

July 4^th parade in downtown Creswell, Oregon

Creswell, Oregon is about 12 miles south of Eugene where we are staying.  Sean and his family lived here for a while after moving from Tucson.

The entire town showed up with folks from the surrounding area, 3000-4000 in all.  The parade lasted about 1½ hours with fire trucks, dump trucks, other trucks and plenty of tractors.  This was a wonderful event with tons of candy being thrown from the floats as well as water from the fire trucks.  There was fighting, grabbing, knee bruising, shoving, stomping and kicking.  And that was just between the kids and me.  The rest of the adults pretty well acted sane.

“Tomorrow This Will Be More Interesting”

Florence Beach overlooking the Pacific Ocean

Hello everyone from cool Oregon.  Today we drove about an hour out of Eugene to see the wonderful Oregon Coast.  In the picture are Sean and his daughter Kiara building a sand castle.  The moat would not hold water. There are some six fools in the 50 degree water.  Obviously they are not at the age of majority as they are having fun.  I am not a water person so this is almost as close as I got.  I understand it is salty.

The Siuslaw River (pronounced sigh-YOU-slaw) is a river, approximately 110 miles long, along the Pacific coast of Oregon in and is just to the right of the jetty on the picture.

To get here we crossed over the bascule bridge that spans the river on US 101.  What a great highway.  Sandi & I came through here 4 years ago on our way to Bandon Dunes for a little golf.  We walked and played and shot terrible golf.  Wind and rain is not my kind of golf. 

 Tomorrow this will be more interesting.

“I Am Never Going to Do It Again”

This is Sean and me above Sand Beach at Incline Village at Lake Tahoe.  Do we look spent?

Can one imagine the turmoil and effort to get to this point?  Up a trail that is grueling for 4 miles and then across the man built lake to take the Flume Trail above Lake Tahoe is grueling.  It is not a trail for the faint of heart or the timid.  Exhausting, yes.  Scary, yes.  Long, yes.  My heart rate was at the max for the uphill and exhilarating for the trail.  It is only wide enough for a bike at times and not that wide at others.  We walked the bikes many times. 

This flume was built for the miners in Virginia City some 20 mile east of here to supply lumber and water to the town.  There is a great bit of history here and we are too spent to detail it here.  In bed by 8:00 p.m. 

This was my second time to do this.  The first was 20 years ago and I must have forgotten how hard it was.  Sandi, Shelley, Sean and I hiked up to it 24 years ago and it is still beautiful.  There were Nevada State people up there milking trout for replant on other waters. Lahontan trout were there as well as rainbow. 

If you want to know more look at www.flumetrail.com.  I am never going to do it again.

What Has Happened to Nevada?

This picture says it all, only if you can see me sitting in tears at the doorway in the background. 

The caption should read:  “What has happened to Nevada.”

This is one of my favorite sights along the road from Las Vegas to Reno and the economy has taken its toll on the world’s oldest profession.  Where have they gone?  Perhaps to Las Vegas where whatever happens there stays there.  It is certainly not out here where nothing happens anymore.

Sean and I drove through from Las Vegas to Tahoe today.  We passed this bordello above in central Nevada then on to Truckee, California where all is good, healthy, and vibrant. 

Nearing Reno we passed by the old Mustang Ranch.  In case you are unfamiliar with Joe Conforte (naturally he is from from Sicily) and the Mustang Ranch let me illuminate you.  Outside of Reno is the most famous whore house of them all.  The Mustang Ranch became Nevada’s first licensed brothel in 1971, eventually leading to licensed prostitution in 10 of 17 counties in Nevada.   It became Nevada’s largest brothel.  Joe ran quite a business and unfortunately he forgot to pay his taxes on the income.  Guess what?  The IRS came down and raided his fine establishment and took it over for the back taxes.  Now I bet that the IRS never thought they would be in the lucrative business of running a legal brothel.  But they did for a while until it was sold.

I would have loved to be involved in the conversations taking place between the agents and the staff.  But I will not.  Your own imagination is already way ahead of me.