Caught in An Atmospheric River

It takes a rain like this to stop the madness. Knock some sense into our skulls. Isn’t there more to life than fishing? Surely. And now is a good time to embrace the “more.”

But who do I think I am kidding? I will get one or two nights of regular sleep, make a few social calls on my non-fishing friends, but all I do is recharge the fishing batteries. Soon I’m checking the hydrograph again every two or three hours. I’m always quietly packing gear, arranging flies, talking with cronies like the second coming of the Allmighty is just days away.

Meteorologists call this kind of weather pattern an atmospheric river. So much water in the air that it’s almost liquid. Like a fish could jump and just keep swimming up into the clouds. There have been some times in the last few days when water’s surface blurred to the point of vaporization. And there have been plenty of times when the fish were jumping like they expected watery air. Somewhere today those two possibilities collided. Fish swam through the atmosphere, for sure.

It’s a fitting farewell. Almost too perfect. Because this week I pack my bags for a seven-month bonefishing season at Andros South. The stuff of dreams. But I’m pretty sure it’s all real. The summer at Alaska West was real, mostly. The last two months in Oregon…okay, that crossed over into the unreal a few times. As with the feathery line between air and water, a few things have blurred.

So you won’t have to worry about me poaching your secret spot this winter. I’ll be checking the blog and getting my salmonid fixes vicariously. And you can bet that no matter how heavenly the Bahamas prove to be, I will be daydreaming about the Oregon Coast.

See you on the other side, my dear friends, and my dear Oregon!
-RR