River Adventures in Oregon

We just returned from "The Great Road Trip of 2007" to Oregon for a week of fly-fishing with my high-school pals, Terry and Laurie, and their husbands, Bob and Barry, and then to Pebble Beach to visit our friends, Marianne and Brian. While in Oregon, we had Gary, Terry and Barry, all of whom would answer when one of their names was called. Unfortunately, the fish didn't want to answer to any of us. Barry caught one big rainbow trout and some smaller fish. Gary caught one medium-sized rainbow trout and the rest of us caught little guys that we tossed back into the lake or river. At least we had one great fish dinner. We stayed at what is basically a "fishing lodge" called The Ranch House on the Williamson River. It's near the town of Chiloquin and has one of the most beautiful and serene views I've ever encountered. One day, when the two other couples were fishing on boats way downstream from the house, Gary and I watched 56 snow geese swim down the river past our porch. We were in awe. That tells you how old we are now, because we would never have sat still watching geese swim until arthritis set in! We would have been hiking, mountain-biking, river-rafting, swimming or at least fishing non-stop. Not this trip. It was great to chill on the porch with a lemonade or iced tea and enjoy the wildlife show. I did join Bob for a canoe ride down the river one evening. Barry and Laurie went in another canoe. Gary and Terry stayed home, which made communication between the canoes much easier. For days before I left on vacation, my dad warned me about the dangers of stepping in holes in the river while fishing. Who needs fishing? I managed to step in a mud-hole clear up to the top of my thigh while canoeing. We stopped to pull the canoe out of the water for a short walk to avoid the rocks and rapids coming back upstream. I stepped out of the canoe onto some wet grass, but my red-orange Croc sandal just kept on going down, down, down. Eventually I just sat in the mud, and when I finally got my leg out, I looked like I'd had a major accident without a diaper! Thankfully, none of us had thought to bring a camera. Bob was kind enough to reach way down and pull out my muddy shoe while I went out into the icy cold river to wash off. When we arrived back at the house, Gary took one look at me and laughed out loud. "That's my woman," he said, alluding to my stellar reputation as world-class klutz. I got back at him a few days later in Pebble Beach when he played golf with our friend, Brian. That story, and others from this weeklong adventure, will be in a future post.