Field Notes - Dispatch 23 – Rose Cottage
Wednesday 9th of September, 2015
Greetings Fellow Adventurers!
It has been a while since my last dispatch and I
must say I have missed writing them. While MR and I were in Trout
Camp this summer my father, an avid fisherman, passed away and one of
my sisters was in the hospital. For a while I just did not feel like
finding my pencil stub and scrawling a note to the outside world.
But, like my sister, I am back in the saddle and moving forward.
This evening MR and I went out to a local trout
stream and while she read beside the faithful old Land Rover I
schooled the fish. As usual, I caught many a beautiful rainbow from
a spring fed, ice cold stream under a crystal blue Idaho sky. I do
not know who was more surprised, the fish or MR. As is often the
case here in Idaho, I had the whole stream to myself. Not another
fisherman or camper for miles. I feel sorry for those fisherman back
east in Wyoming who stand shoulder to shoulder hoping to catch a
little brookie.
My brother in law, who guides on the South Fork of
the Snake up near Idaho Falls was down camping last weekend and we
had a swell time. In exchange for free beer and a fantastic roast
beef dinner prepared by his lovely wife, my sister, I took him
fishing and passed on some of my extensive fly fishing knowledge.
Now this is a fellow who prides himself on drift boating rich
Easterners down big rivers and guaranteeing results. By the end of
the day, he was speechless with astonishment after watching my
casting technique and trout hunting strategies. He said he had never
seen, or even heard, of anything quite like it and suggested I keep
it all to myself. I suppose he is right. All the steams in the
Northwest would soon be empty if everyone fished the way I do. I
suppose it is my gift, similar to those given to chaps like Mozart or
Leonardo.
Now the big news is that MR and I are dead set on
heading for the Oregon Coast day after tomorrow. We pretty much have
to dip our feet in Pacific salt water every year just to know we are
alive. There is nothing like a romantic walk with me along the
beaches of Manzanita to make MR reminisce about the mistakes she has
made in life, particularly her matrimonial decisions. Still, the
food is good at the restaurants and I can usually find some sort of
dead sea creature on the beach to cheer her up.
Anyway, if you were thinking about dropping by the
cottage over the next couple of weeks we will not be here. However,
the downstairs fridge is full of beer and you all know where the key
is. Help yourself. Remember to feed the cat.
Over and out.
