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Friday, January 7, 2011

Coming up in a time of worms Part 2

( PLEASE READ PART 1 AS THIS A MULTIPLE PART SERIES )
In the spring of 1984 I was proudly employed as a carrier of the Spokane daily chronicle. My route consisted of mostly elderly customers, in those days you had to collect and sell subscriptions, some customers I truly loved to collect from.. others, well not so much. One of my favorites was an older gentleman in his 80's, his home was a museum of outdoor memorabilia, antlers, gear, hides... you name it, every time I would visit I couldn't help but eyeball the 5 ft tall stack of sports afield, outdoor life and American rifleman magazines in the corner near the door. He must have noticed because soon every few weeks there would be one in the paper box, the first one had a note... " thought you might enjoy this" it was a sports afield from 1933... awesome. So over the next few months I regularly received a new old magazine, and I wore them out reading about Alaska, Canada...and sometimes places I never even new had hunting ( like California.. yeah I actually didn't know they had woods still back then ) then one day.. a sportsman's journal, dedicated to dry fly fishing... and my whole world changed.. forever. After two months of ripping out pages of brown trout with green drake flies clinging to their lips like jewelry, decorating my walls, school locker, peechees, and absolutely boring the living shit out of anyone who would stay in the room, a miracle happened, the chronicle had a subscription drive, and one of the prizes was a fly rod package. This was the first time in my short life I had ever truly focused on a goal, it was everything to me, I had to have it.. and after two weeks of hustling like the last couple to join Amway... it was mine, well almost.. every Monday I would go to the local McDonald's for the paper meeting and it wouldn't be there yet... not that I didn't ask, a million times.. the fourth of July was closing in fast and I needed it. My family had planned a rare trip to a different camping location, the N Fork of the St Joe river in Idaho. I had already made all the preparations.. multiple trips to Kmart had secured me 3 packages of mosquito flies, and 2 packages of Danielson wet flies, the Elton john blue Gordons quill variant had my eye every night as I rearranged them in the folding metal fly box I had purchased to keep them safe in ( in hind sight and much field testing... gay blue flies from India don't catch shit ) One evening just days before the trip my managers car pulled up, Gary stepped from the cutlass and I saw it.. my rod, my weapon.. the hand of god. Without so much as a thank you I blazed straight for my room, tearing the rod from the plastic and shoving the two pieces together I started reading from the top of the package, Shakespeare 2 piece 6 wt fly rod, Graphite reel, my mind went crazy, Graphite yeah! no more flimsy metal that can rust..the best! foam grip for added comfort and less fatigue, Yeah! less fatigue and probably warmer too! included 1 level floating fly line ( bumps and imperfections included) backing and one 4x leader already assembled...Yeah! already assembled, now I can throw away the copy of the Curtis creek Manifesto I had purchased to learn the knots... what omg a pamphlet with all the Knots and casting guide included! this fly fishing thing is gonna be easy........ to be continued

1 comment:

  1. I'm looking forward to seeing how this story ends.

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