fishing
Release
“One day standing on a river with my fly rod I’ll have the courage to admit my life to myself” Jim Harrison A long last swig of thermos coffee, some extra tippet Just in case. We step away from gravel roads And all the grating calls of civilization Into the waiting stream. Still and clear … Continue reading
Of love and flyfishing
There is no hint from my distant past that would make me a fly fisherman. I never fished with my Dad and he only fished when he and a few pals made their annual trip to the Klamath River, far in Northern California, perhaps more drinking and male bonding than fishing. Once or twice I … Continue reading
…..And then there was the evening
that I stepped off of Bulla’s porch to peer over the side of the garden at the running creek below. He claimed to have seen a good-sized trout down there the night before, so I stood staring into the pool. The next thing we know, we have left his other guests lounging in the … Continue reading
Rods
My first fly rod came to me by accident. A student, my memory calls him Jim, departed the school and left it behind. He was a memorable boy for his habitual intensity. So much so that others gave him a rather wide berth in the school. Yet, I recall him best for the night he … Continue reading
On the stream
There is a river that flows out of the wilderness Cut deep through rock cliff Graveled broadly from the shore And I long to stand in it To wade and cast my line and know that my life is complete Cast in the comfort of the loves that I have known In those who have … Continue reading
FOR GARY
“One day standing on a river with my fly rod I’ll have the courage to admit my life to myself” Jim Harrison A long last swig of thermos coffee, some extra tippet Just in case. We step away from gravel roads And all the grating calls of civilization Into the waiting stream. Still and clear … Continue reading
COMING OFF THE STREAM
Tracing my steps from pool to pool, I head back to the car. The path back to the road is barely discernible in the shadows of the evening. No moon yet, I point my rod behind me to not snap it on some tree. The car is dark. Bulla is still on the stream. I … Continue reading