Why is it so cold? Why am I out here again? What is that mysterious odor emanating from the back of my vehicle? Why is my dog whimpering again? Why is my car teetering over the edge of that cliff? All reasonable questions to pose to one’s self-conscious when slipping in to or out of a repetitive dream. The only problem is, much like many of the occasions before, one’s self cannot definitively say whether or not this is in fact reality. When chasing silly unicorn fish this quandary plays out over and over again and becomes especially pertinent in the Oregon winter driving to the ethereal location in which one might try and find Salvelinus Confluentus, North American Bull Trout.
Perhaps I have found myself in this position again because I choose to hurt myself. That’s right, I am a glutton for piscatorial punishment. Only chasing the most difficult of fish, in the most difficult of seasons, in the most difficult way. I have considered whether I like fishing or if I am more of an elephant hunter in disguise. Often the result of these elephant hunts is a euphoric high that is better enjoyed after a long dearth of success. This doesn’t make the pursuit any less thrilling or important however it does make one question ones sanity and motivation. But considering the aforementioned euphoria, there are a very few times in the outdoor pursuit where the countless hours of frigidity and self-imposed sanity inquisition yield positive results, but the momentary capture of such a specter as the bull trout indeed results in this experience.