When I moved to Oregon the thoughts and dreams of all the days spent afield filled my mind with wonder, hope and expectation but none of those dreams lingered more importantly than the week that my friends would spend with me on what had become my “home water”. I put in time to learn the waters, the fish, the flies. I made gracious friends who showed me the way and led to my limited success. I spent hours, dollars, fights, and worries on being as prepared as possible, not only for them but also for me. I loved every minute of it.
When the time came for them to arrive I couldn’t help but think this would be the year we finally got it done. Multiple steelhead for everyone. Laughs and giggles and beers and high fives and blah blah blah. ‘Twas not meant to be. My friends were disappointed. I was disappointed even though I caught steelhead because at this point, it was only about them being satisfied. My front seat syndrome couldn’t even save us now.
The need for companionship on the river is undeniable. The need to succeed is undeniable. The need for beer is well…. The point in writing these things down is to remind ourselves when the memories fade. It is to show yourself, or your fishing buddies what it is that makes you do these things time and time again. Because no matter where you choose to ride, its these memories of misery that pain that make it necessary to come back again for more. I think its time for me to buy a Prius.