This is the title of an article in the August 2006 issue of Sunset magazine. Read it. If you’ve never been to central Oregon’s Metolius River, it’ll make you want to go. If you’re there already, like we are, it’ll help explain the smile on your face.
Not that smiles need explanation. And not that every moment on the Metolius is pleasurable.
Take, for example, simply standing in the 48 degree water. The air was 90 degrees when Laurel did that this afternoon, on a hike downriver from the Wizard Falls fish hatchery. Yet a few seconds after I took this photo, she wasn’t standing there anymore.
You can fly fish from the banks. Most fisherpeople don’t. They wade right in. Not knowing much about fly fishing, I don’t know why. It’s sort of a mystery to me why people catch fish just to let them go. It’s not a mystery why they come to the Metolius.
On the “up and away” part of the hike we came to a tree threesome: one dead, two alive. I pictured one of the standing trees saying to the other, “Honey, for some reason I don’t feel as close to you anymore.”