WTB: Time out of mind - (4/4)

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stillsteamin
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WTB: Time out of mind - (4/4)

Post by stillsteamin » Fri Sep 23, 2016 9:21 am

[report]

Figured I'd start this or it will never get done. "Start the shit rolling downhill" as I was once told. Yesterday I heard a quote from Charles Eames that really hit me square in the knockers. I don't quite know what it has to do with fishing but I believe it may have more to do with everything than I can understand at the moment.

"In India, sort of the lowest, the poorest, the, those, those without and the lowest in caste, eat very often--particularly in southern India--they eat off of a banana leaf. And those a little bit up the scale, eat off of a sort of a un . . . a low-fired ceramic dish.
And a little bit higher, why, they have a glaze on--a thing they call a "tali"--they use a banana leaf and then the ceramic as a tali upon which they put all the food. And there get to be some fairly elegant glazed talis, but it graduates to--if you're up the scale a little bit more--why, a brass tali, and a bell-bronze tali is absolutely marvelous, it has a sort of a ring to it.
And then things get to be a little questionable. There are things like silver-plated talis and there are solid silver talis and I suppose some nut has had a gold tali that he's eaten off of, but I've never seen one.
But you can go beyond that and the guys that have not only means, but a certain amount of knowledge and understanding, go the next step and they eat off of a banana leaf.
And I think that in these times when we fall back and regroup, that somehow or other, the banana leaf parable sort of got to get working there, because I'm not prepared to say that the banana leaf that one eats off of is the same as the other eats off of, but it's that process that has happened within the man that changes the banana leaf."


August was time out of mind, true transcendence like a bong hit from the lips of an ungettable girl in high school for no other reason than you were in the right place at the right time and the Indiana scrub actually had a piece or two of bud in it that night. Days passed, as they do, and at the end father time gave me a swift kick in the ass back towards reality, slamming the door to never-land with the usual but still jolting force.

Through a series of gratuitous happenings and an understanding that once purchased, flights are a sunk cost, I was able to turn an already sort of obscenely long absence from adult life into something even better. I realize now that I didn't take very many pictures that first week, which is fine because it's already been covered well here.

At the rental counter, I confidently said "August 6th to September 6th please" when asked how long I needed the car for. The clerk stopped typing, and looked up at me for the first time during our exchange.

"That's a whole month"

"Ya I guess it is"

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I wasn't planning on a roadie until Laramie but then Joe Cocker's Feelin' Alright came on and I had to reach for the cooler.
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An unusual sight in August.
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Things were looking good despite storms up on the mountain.
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I had four days, report from the guys sounded really solid, so I was confident I would catch something. It wasn't disappointing when I caught nothing. That is the nature of this place. Respectable casting and all else equal, she moves in mysterious ways and I've learned to leave my expectations at the rim of the canyon.
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The guys had a stop in Montana planned on the way back, and after they'd pulled out of camp I drove into town to escape the heat in a back corner booth of the tavern. That evening I hiked into a likely looking run I'd never fished before. After plying it without reward, I sat on a boulder in the purple-orange half light of the canyon eating sunflower seeds and sipping bourbon, and thought that for as much worrying as I do, until then I must have done everything just about right. Watching a few early October caddis fly awkwardly above the bushes as they tend to, I had the overwhelming sensation that no matter what happens, this place will always exist. And that is enough.
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This was part one of maybe four? We'll get to the good stuff shortly.[/report]
Last edited by stillsteamin on Mon Oct 17, 2016 10:29 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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flybug.pa.
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind

Post by flybug.pa. » Fri Sep 23, 2016 10:25 am

well done. we wait for more installments, or I do anyway as things go here.
If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it.
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Spicytuna
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind

Post by Spicytuna » Fri Sep 23, 2016 11:32 am

Fuck yeah.

Way to get after it.

Wish I could take a whole fucking month to fuck off and fish.

Live it up man :cool
"In truth you can throw dries and swing flies and still be a loser. That would be an elite loser though.
Rare breed." - MTgrayling

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austrotard
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind

Post by austrotard » Sun Sep 25, 2016 1:07 am

you lot dress funny.
we'll always have buffalo, sweet josh.

-mtice

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stillsteamin
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind

Post by stillsteamin » Sun Sep 25, 2016 10:27 am

austrotard wrote:you lot dress funny.
I've stickies for you still
They all wanna be Hank Williams
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stillsteamin
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind

Post by stillsteamin » Thu Sep 29, 2016 8:01 pm

[report]

I actually had pretty high hopes for the last morning despite pretty convincing evidence so far that luck was not on my side. The balance shifted further when my buddy's old friend from Alaska showed up for an evening, walked a couple hundred yards downstream from camp and caught a wild hen. It stung more than a little, but after watching a few meteors burn up across an especially bright starry sky and a few pulls of Hayden's I calmly surrendered to fate. "Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die" and all that.
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How I eat when nobody's looking.

After my alarm went off at 3:30 am I drifted in and out of sleep in my hammock, listening to everything and nothing. I was debating where to start, a spot I knew would hold fish, or the new run I had hiked into the evening before. It was almost guaranteed to hold fish. Almost. Betting on the sure thing I started off down the canyon. 4 am and there were headlights at the turnoff. Fuck me. I thought about heading back to the new run, but it would hold shade until mid-morning and would be a fine second spot. There weren't any headlights at the backup spot, so I pulled off, rigged, and waited for the rim rock to separate from the sky. Headlights snaked slowly along the upstream bend, I flicked on my lights so the sucker knew to keep it moving. Instead of rolling past, the truck hesitated, then pulled off at a turnout 50 feet up from me. Christ. Two dudes hopped out and quickly started to gear up. So it was going to be like that.

It wasn't light yet, but I grabbed my rod and started down the steep, rocky hill, sort of hop-stepping down, intent on having what was mine. Suddenly I was off-balance, stumbling and running down, in just enough to control to be fully aware of what was about to happen. I have this recurring dream where I’m suddenly falling from thousands of feet in the air, I can see the ground spinning below and I don’t have a parachute. The theme of these dreams, or nightmares I guess, is the feeling of impending disaster, panic about a foregone conclusion I can’t change. It was like that, except I always wake up before I hit the ground. Instead of escaping down a stream of consciousness, my foot found a crevice in the rock, my tight boots likely saving me from a broken ankle, but putting all the torque on my knee, which crunched, popped, and gave way, sending me tumbling end over end through the boulders for the last few feet of the descent. I managed an “AHH FU-“ before my shoulder came down hard in a sage bush, which blew the “UUUCK” out of my lungs along with the rest of my air in a big grunt. After loudly sucking air for a few seconds I started taking inventory. Hat was gone, swapped for sticks and dirt. Rod gone. My hand was bleeding but I couldn’t tell from where. I remembered my knee. Still laying as I’d landed, I felt down my leg. I groaned as I felt my knee cap around on the side of the joint. It popped back into place as I straightened my leg. It didn’t hurt too badly, so I stood up, testing it with my weight. From that sad vantage point I could see my spray pole balanced on a bush a few feet away and my hat halfway back up the hill. I started to relax, maybe everything was fine. My rod didn’t even look broken. I took a step toward it, confident I could still fish. The knee was locked up solid. It was starting to swell, and I could feel the pain coming in waves, but beneath those distractions there was definitely something more serious going on. Something stuck in the joint getting in the way. I dejectedly gathered up my shit and dragged my bum leg back up the hill in embarrassingly small increments until I was leaning against the car. Catching my breath I turned around and noticed the two dudes were both down in the river directly in front of me, fishing away innocently. Fuck them.
I packed all my stuff away, and then realized I had no idea how I was going to drive with my right leg locked straight.
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This worked “Fine.”

At the clinic the lady at the front desk jumped up when I limped in through the front door and asked me if I’d been bitten by a snake.
“Oh no just fell down a hill”
Looking a little relieved she sat down “Oh…ok…we’ve had too many already this summer so I worry”
As I filled out my paperwork I asked her how many snake bites are too many.

6 I guess.

Pretty sure the doctor grew his own pot. He told me I probably tore my meniscus and part of it flipped into the joint, locking it up.
I told him I was from Michigan.
“You need to see an orthopedist – when are you going home?”
“Uhh well not until September.”

He stopped messing with my knee, and looked up.
“September?”
“Ya like three weeks from now”
He stared at me for a second, then back down at my knee before offering his expert assessment.
“This is poor timing”

Up until then everything had happened so fast I hadn’t really thought about what it meant for the rest of my glorious escape. How the hell was I going to do anything with a fucked up leg? Crutches on river rock? Not to mention wading… driving… fuck my brother and yoga pants were flying in that night and I had a five hour drive ahead of me just to get to the airport.

Outfitted with crutches, a full leg brace, and instructions to see an orthopedist as soon as possible I gimped back through the automatic doors, nodding to Barb at the front desk who without any snake bite victims around had gone back to reading news articles on her computer. Stoner doc had seemed a little too amused as he wished me good luck.

I crawled in through the passenger side door, swearing, sliding across and over the center console until I was sitting on the driver’s side with my bad leg propped up on the dashboard. Reaching into the back, I grabbed the butt section of my spray pole with reel still attached, rolled down the passenger window and used the reel as a hook to slam the door shut. I tossed the rod into the back and opened a beer. Glancing over I noticed a guy sitting in his car staring at me, clearly concerned. Un-phased, I threw the car hard in reverse, still learning moderation with my left foot. The guy turned and watched me drive away.
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Homemade painkiller at the hotel while waiting for my brother and Yoga pants to arrive.

The next day we made for the north reaches of cutthroat country, with me still re-telling the story from the passenger seat. I was told I was lucky I hadn’t bashed my head on a rock. Which was a good point.
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I discovered one crutch is really all you need, and I could tuck it under my arm and still fish. It was actually easier wading with a crutch.

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It was really, really good. I spent much more time sitting on a rock watching than I normally do, getting around wasn’t all that hard, we had two evenings of terrific small mayfly hatches, and I was in paradise with two of my favorite people in the world.

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I laid awake the last night before heading back to Montana, listening to the creek behind camp, smiling like a looney in the dark thinking about the conversation I’d had with a partner I’d worked for quite often after I told him I was quitting. He thought I was full of shit when I told him I’d taken less money. I thanked him for the opportunity for which I was and am truly grateful. I learned I could excel in the “big leagues” of my field, that deep dish tastes better at 4am, and that I would never again make another career move for the money.

Part three will have rodeo clowns, brown trout, and more cowbell.[/report]
They all wanna be Hank Williams
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fatman
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by fatman » Thu Sep 29, 2016 9:47 pm

waterfall pic is sick. the rest aint bad :smile
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by austrotard » Thu Sep 29, 2016 9:54 pm

benetton kids are go.
we'll always have buffalo, sweet josh.

-mtice

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fishpimp
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by fishpimp » Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:03 pm

Mmmmmmmm....huckleberry.....nice :bow
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SLSS
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by SLSS » Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:54 pm

So were you tougher or more fussy once YP was there? It can go either way.

I blew my ACL playing tag with my then 3 yr old son, first day of a 10 day family vacation. There was no YP at the time, and fortunately, blown ACL's don't really hurt much.

Good stuff, great country. :cool
Last edited by SLSS on Fri Sep 30, 2016 12:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
It's lime the battles between sperm whales and giant squid half a mile below the surface of the ocean. Only it happens in the palm I your hand.- thndr

when I fall, I am still cold and wet, but much more stylishly dressed. as my hat disappears in the riffle- flybug.pa


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pbrstreetgang
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by pbrstreetgang » Thu Sep 29, 2016 10:58 pm

kinda reminds me of this:
http://www.gq.com/story/fall-fashion-ro ... oshua-tree
kinda not too

I guess I am still a judgemental fuck.


but yeah - fatmanso nailed it with the waterfall pic. I miss shit like that. But I think trading it for the Racine shoreline was a wise move...
Everybody knows this is nowhere...

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SLSS
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Re: WTB: Time out of mind (2/4)

Post by SLSS » Fri Sep 30, 2016 12:38 am

……………………………..
It's lime the battles between sperm whales and giant squid half a mile below the surface of the ocean. Only it happens in the palm I your hand.- thndr

when I fall, I am still cold and wet, but much more stylishly dressed. as my hat disappears in the riffle- flybug.pa


"Sugar? No thank you Turkish, I'm sweet enough."

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