Find Some Quiet Awesome
For
the past few weeks, I’ve been on a road trip
with an Italian friend, and over the past
weekend, we found ourselves on the coast of
Oregon. In California, we’d had some luck
foraging for coastal greens, Pismo clams, and
mussels, and we wanted to keep trying. So we
found a sporting goods store in Brookings,
Oregon, to buy a fishing license. There, at a
gun counter (try explaining that to a European),
a good-natured, mustachioed clerk informed us
that we wouldn’t need one: twice a year, Oregon
has a “free fishing” weekend, where no license
is required.
The
next day, we drove up a winding road following
the Rogue River, which meandered out of the
misty woods, grey and swollen. On the stony
banks, I found a fisherman, who had a long rod,
set with a large bell, propped up on the bank.
When I told him I had no idea how to fish this
kind of water, he jumped to the task of
educating me. Here, he said, they were fishing
for winter steelhead, massive rainbow trout that
live part of their lives in the ocean. The
fishing tackle included a heavy weight and a
floating, spinning lure, which you cast out and
let sit. I was in luck, the man said, because he
had some extra tackle he would happily give me.
He dug around in the back of the jeep and
produced everything I would need to fish here
(minus the rod and reel, which I actually have,
stashed away in the camper van).
The
man drove off, and I set up the tackle as he’d
shown me, and cast out into the river. I
unfolded a camp chair and sat down, and for the
next hour, I watched the water flow by. A
red-headed merganser passed, riding the current,
while a bald eagle circled overhead, much to the
delight of my friend, who sat next to me with a
pair of binoculars. Eventually two Canada geese
arrived, landing on the river with what would
have been grace if not for all the honking. No
steelhead showed up, which is good, because I’m
not a true angler, and the prospect of landing a
24-inch fish had me worried.
Still,
for that hour, I thought of nothing but the
river. No news, no noise, no sense of impending
doom — just the quietude of a world I’d almost
forgotten. I snapped a picture and sent it to my
dad, who is an avid fisherman. I included a
brief note: “Fishing for winter steelhead on the
Rouge River,” to which he replied, “That’s so
awesome!” And it was.
So
here’s a note to say, don’t forget to find
something awesome this weekend. The noisy world
can wait.
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