I'm the type of woman that prefers worm guts under her fingernails than going shopping for shoes. Any day. I'd rather read a field guide on fishing in Oregon to Cosmo. Any day. I'm not a morning person (shut up Carol:-) but I'll get up at 4am to fish. Any Day.
One of my best memories of fishing was when I was 24 or so. I was dating a rather efeminate guy named Mork (names have been changed to protect real outdoorsmen) who's hands were softer than mine if you get my drift. He wasn't the 'manly man' type I'm usually attracted to. The word metro-sexual hadn't been invented way back then. He spent more time on his hair than I did and I had alot of hair to do. It was the 80's.
Any chance I got to take a trip it would be somewhere on Oregons amazing coastline. Its peppered with great little towns full of relaxed people who don't really care about hair do's and the current fashion trends. Its also salted with the glorious sea air and sounds and views of the Pacific ocean. It has tons of docks, lakes, bays, rivers and eddys to fish from. Oregon's coastline is perfectly seasoned. Who's Eddy?
Mork and I took ourselves and my chocolate cocker spanial Cocoa (original name huh?) to Garabaldi/Rockaway to spend the weekend. We'd been dating for about a year and we got along like peas and carrots and laughed alot together. He was not an outdoorsy kind of guy in ANY sense of the word and failed to understand my need to touch a worm or a slippery fish. When we were packing the car for the trip I brought out my fishing pole and tackle box and brought it to the trunk and Mork asked "What are you gonna do with those?" With pole in hand I said " Uhm, I thought Id do my fuckin laundry honey". Some peoples boyfriends. Sheesh.
I'd stopped on Friday night on our way into town at the local tackle shop to pick up some worms and ask where the fish were biting while Mork sat in the car. I think I told him I was picking up laundry soap and can't remember if he called me a smart ass or not. Probably. Its part of the reason we got along so well, calling eachother on our crap with a smile and humor. Sometimes I still miss him. The dork.
Those of you that do enjoy fishing know this feeling....you wake up uber early and under normal circumstances you'd throw the alarm clock across the room for the ungodly hour it woke you. But not today. You shimmy into your clothes, (boys throw clothes on, sexy fishing girls shimmy) picking shabby jeans because your going to be wiping fish blood and worm guts on them. Put the coffee on and throw some snacks in a bag. You fill a thermos, grab your dog and stuff and practically skip to the car. Though I've never spotted a man skipping to go fishing, I bet they do when no one is watching.
Its still dark and I realize in my exuberance I got up to early. Oh well. I take a nip from the pint of brandy I'd brought simply for medicinal purposes should I get snake bit or mauled by a bear (My Dad tought me well) and Cocoa and I sit in the car at Lake Lytle in Rockaway only a few blocks from the motel Mork still slept at. The sky was finally starting to lighten and I reveled in that feeling that I was the only one awake in the world or at least here on my Oregon Lake. The air was still and it was so silent. So quiet. I couldn't even hear the ocean just across Highway 101.
There was a dense fog that lay on top of the lake about 6 inches high. It was mesmerizing and beautiful and a little scary as my imagination could picture some heinous lake monster emerging with green crap dripping from it and it wanting to eat my dog, steal my brandy and possibly have its way with me. No monsters emerged but a deer did. It was light now and Cocoa and I were sitting crossed legged on the long dock just breathing and getting my pole ready to fish. This deer came out of the bushes to our right and walked daintily across the road toward the North end of the lake. It was so quiet out I could hear its hooves go crunch crunch across the gravel road. It walked down the small embankment and simply walked into the lake.
For some reason my dog didn't get excited and just sat and watched with me as the deer swam across the lake with its head bobbing in and out of the fog as it swam. Sunbeams burst out from over the tops of the Eastern mountains and lit up the lake and the deer. Fanfare For The Comman Man by classical composer Copeland played in my head. Breathtakingly beautiful. The deer swam and swam and it finally reached the eastern shore and just walked out and it stopped and turned to look at us as if to say "Liked that? didja?" and it shook itself off and trotted into the woods. Way cool.
So I cast my line on the now barely foggy lake and enjoyed the sound of zzzzzzz sound when you cast your line and the sun was finally on my face. Life is grand. I was fishing with a bobber and it took about 60 seconds before I got a hit. Quick jerk, hook set and I reel in my first trout. Nice. Today I just might be catching and not just fishing. I pulled the fish up and onto the dock, held it down, removed the hook and put it on my stringer I hoped to fill. Honestly I always feel a little guilty about killing anything in nature. Even if these trout were planted and stocked here by the Oregon wildlife and game people for the enjoyment of people like me...its still made me feel guilty. The fish was still flopping a bit and gasping for oxygen and I swear its eyeball turned to me and his moving mouth was saying "Thanks biotch. I was just at breakfast with my school friends and look what you did. Well you better enjoy my fine, 10 inch ass and eat me while I'm fresh and I hope you choke on my bones". I swear. It said that. Bonk! with my leathermans tool and no more conversations with said fish happened. Fish on.
Alot of stocked lake fish are mushy and skinny and small. Not these babies. I was reeling in really fat 8-14 inch rainbow trout like they were waiting for me. I was in fishy heaven and was halfway to getting close to my daily limit of trout. People who slept in and didn't get to enjoy the fog or the deer started showing up. Cocoa and I snagged the best end spot of the dock because I could cast to the deeper parts of the lake. A group of 3 REAL outdoorsmen came to the end where I was all wearing the fisherman vests with all the pockets for flies and other gear. They were putting fancy lures on their lines and out of the corner of my eye I saw one of them elbow the other and cocked his head in my direction like " Check out the dumb chick trying to fish with a bobber". One of them asks me with a definate superior tone, " Whatcha doin?" My first instincual response was to say "I'm doin my fuckin laundry Einstein" But I didn't. I just ignored them.
So they're casting and reeling and get no hits. 30 miniutes go by and I'd reeled in 3 more fat trout. It had slowed down a bit as the sun warmed the water and more people disturbed the quiet lake. My back was to them so they did not see what type of bait I was using. and as I ceremoniously and sloooowly put my third fish on my stringer that just happened to be in the 3 dudes eyesight, I was feeling pretty happy and a little smug because I mean...I'm justa dumb girl fishing with her puppy dog and using a girly neon pink and white bobber right? Riiiiiiiiight.
I reel in 2 more and thats my limit for the day. I pull my string of 10 fat trout out of the water and probably a little harder and louder than necessary, slap my catch on the dock and stand up. All 73 inches of me. I wish I had my camera with me to capture the dropped jaws and look on those 3 guys faces. Classic. As I grabbed my stuff and walked past them to leave 1 guy asked me, in these exact words.."Hey girly, whadya use for bait?" Without stopping to look at him I said "Itsa ancient Norweigan secret" and the 2 other guys busted up laughing and I stopped and tossed the 1 guy who never made a smart ass comment to me my container of unused worms and kept walking to my car.
I went back to the motel where Mork was still sleeping and after washing up attacked him in the very best way I knew to wake a boyfriend up. It was a glorious beach trip full of everything I could want and for dinner I tasted the best trout ever put on this earth.
Mother Nature was showing off that day and my love for Her deepened even further. I'm never lonely out in nature. Ever.
I'll take fishing over shopping. Any day.
One of my best memories of fishing was when I was 24 or so. I was dating a rather efeminate guy named Mork (names have been changed to protect real outdoorsmen) who's hands were softer than mine if you get my drift. He wasn't the 'manly man' type I'm usually attracted to. The word metro-sexual hadn't been invented way back then. He spent more time on his hair than I did and I had alot of hair to do. It was the 80's.
Any chance I got to take a trip it would be somewhere on Oregons amazing coastline. Its peppered with great little towns full of relaxed people who don't really care about hair do's and the current fashion trends. Its also salted with the glorious sea air and sounds and views of the Pacific ocean. It has tons of docks, lakes, bays, rivers and eddys to fish from. Oregon's coastline is perfectly seasoned. Who's Eddy?
Mork and I took ourselves and my chocolate cocker spanial Cocoa (original name huh?) to Garabaldi/Rockaway to spend the weekend. We'd been dating for about a year and we got along like peas and carrots and laughed alot together. He was not an outdoorsy kind of guy in ANY sense of the word and failed to understand my need to touch a worm or a slippery fish. When we were packing the car for the trip I brought out my fishing pole and tackle box and brought it to the trunk and Mork asked "What are you gonna do with those?" With pole in hand I said " Uhm, I thought Id do my fuckin laundry honey". Some peoples boyfriends. Sheesh.
I'd stopped on Friday night on our way into town at the local tackle shop to pick up some worms and ask where the fish were biting while Mork sat in the car. I think I told him I was picking up laundry soap and can't remember if he called me a smart ass or not. Probably. Its part of the reason we got along so well, calling eachother on our crap with a smile and humor. Sometimes I still miss him. The dork.
Those of you that do enjoy fishing know this feeling....you wake up uber early and under normal circumstances you'd throw the alarm clock across the room for the ungodly hour it woke you. But not today. You shimmy into your clothes, (boys throw clothes on, sexy fishing girls shimmy) picking shabby jeans because your going to be wiping fish blood and worm guts on them. Put the coffee on and throw some snacks in a bag. You fill a thermos, grab your dog and stuff and practically skip to the car. Though I've never spotted a man skipping to go fishing, I bet they do when no one is watching.
Its still dark and I realize in my exuberance I got up to early. Oh well. I take a nip from the pint of brandy I'd brought simply for medicinal purposes should I get snake bit or mauled by a bear (My Dad tought me well) and Cocoa and I sit in the car at Lake Lytle in Rockaway only a few blocks from the motel Mork still slept at. The sky was finally starting to lighten and I reveled in that feeling that I was the only one awake in the world or at least here on my Oregon Lake. The air was still and it was so silent. So quiet. I couldn't even hear the ocean just across Highway 101.
There was a dense fog that lay on top of the lake about 6 inches high. It was mesmerizing and beautiful and a little scary as my imagination could picture some heinous lake monster emerging with green crap dripping from it and it wanting to eat my dog, steal my brandy and possibly have its way with me. No monsters emerged but a deer did. It was light now and Cocoa and I were sitting crossed legged on the long dock just breathing and getting my pole ready to fish. This deer came out of the bushes to our right and walked daintily across the road toward the North end of the lake. It was so quiet out I could hear its hooves go crunch crunch across the gravel road. It walked down the small embankment and simply walked into the lake.
For some reason my dog didn't get excited and just sat and watched with me as the deer swam across the lake with its head bobbing in and out of the fog as it swam. Sunbeams burst out from over the tops of the Eastern mountains and lit up the lake and the deer. Fanfare For The Comman Man by classical composer Copeland played in my head. Breathtakingly beautiful. The deer swam and swam and it finally reached the eastern shore and just walked out and it stopped and turned to look at us as if to say "Liked that? didja?" and it shook itself off and trotted into the woods. Way cool.
So I cast my line on the now barely foggy lake and enjoyed the sound of zzzzzzz sound when you cast your line and the sun was finally on my face. Life is grand. I was fishing with a bobber and it took about 60 seconds before I got a hit. Quick jerk, hook set and I reel in my first trout. Nice. Today I just might be catching and not just fishing. I pulled the fish up and onto the dock, held it down, removed the hook and put it on my stringer I hoped to fill. Honestly I always feel a little guilty about killing anything in nature. Even if these trout were planted and stocked here by the Oregon wildlife and game people for the enjoyment of people like me...its still made me feel guilty. The fish was still flopping a bit and gasping for oxygen and I swear its eyeball turned to me and his moving mouth was saying "Thanks biotch. I was just at breakfast with my school friends and look what you did. Well you better enjoy my fine, 10 inch ass and eat me while I'm fresh and I hope you choke on my bones". I swear. It said that. Bonk! with my leathermans tool and no more conversations with said fish happened. Fish on.
Alot of stocked lake fish are mushy and skinny and small. Not these babies. I was reeling in really fat 8-14 inch rainbow trout like they were waiting for me. I was in fishy heaven and was halfway to getting close to my daily limit of trout. People who slept in and didn't get to enjoy the fog or the deer started showing up. Cocoa and I snagged the best end spot of the dock because I could cast to the deeper parts of the lake. A group of 3 REAL outdoorsmen came to the end where I was all wearing the fisherman vests with all the pockets for flies and other gear. They were putting fancy lures on their lines and out of the corner of my eye I saw one of them elbow the other and cocked his head in my direction like " Check out the dumb chick trying to fish with a bobber". One of them asks me with a definate superior tone, " Whatcha doin?" My first instincual response was to say "I'm doin my fuckin laundry Einstein" But I didn't. I just ignored them.
So they're casting and reeling and get no hits. 30 miniutes go by and I'd reeled in 3 more fat trout. It had slowed down a bit as the sun warmed the water and more people disturbed the quiet lake. My back was to them so they did not see what type of bait I was using. and as I ceremoniously and sloooowly put my third fish on my stringer that just happened to be in the 3 dudes eyesight, I was feeling pretty happy and a little smug because I mean...I'm justa dumb girl fishing with her puppy dog and using a girly neon pink and white bobber right? Riiiiiiiiight.
I reel in 2 more and thats my limit for the day. I pull my string of 10 fat trout out of the water and probably a little harder and louder than necessary, slap my catch on the dock and stand up. All 73 inches of me. I wish I had my camera with me to capture the dropped jaws and look on those 3 guys faces. Classic. As I grabbed my stuff and walked past them to leave 1 guy asked me, in these exact words.."Hey girly, whadya use for bait?" Without stopping to look at him I said "Itsa ancient Norweigan secret" and the 2 other guys busted up laughing and I stopped and tossed the 1 guy who never made a smart ass comment to me my container of unused worms and kept walking to my car.
I went back to the motel where Mork was still sleeping and after washing up attacked him in the very best way I knew to wake a boyfriend up. It was a glorious beach trip full of everything I could want and for dinner I tasted the best trout ever put on this earth.
Mother Nature was showing off that day and my love for Her deepened even further. I'm never lonely out in nature. Ever.
I'll take fishing over shopping. Any day.
