Here it is with commentary as sent by Harry Boyd ---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: Harry Boyd <ma...@canerods.com> Date: Sun, Sep 28, 2014 at 5:52 AM Subject: Re: Trip Report ... the Au Sable River Days 4 & 5 ... The End To: flyf...@lsv.uky.edu
Good question Dell. I think hallowed might be the better choice. Harry B. On 9/27/2014 9:37 PM, Dell Coppock wrote: > Hi Harry, does that make it haunted or hallowed? > Dell > Along time ago I had a friend who lived in Alpena. > > -----Original Message----- From: Harry Boyd > Sent: Saturday, September 27, 2014 1:31 PM > To: flyf...@lsv.uky.edu > Subject: Re: Trip Report ... the Au Sable River Days 4 & 5 ... The End > > Wonderful Christian, > > I've fished those waters several times. There are ghosts, > spirits, about. They seem to concentrate near Rayburn Lodge. > > Harry B > > On 9/27/2014 3:06 PM, Christian E. Thalacker wrote: > >> Here, midway up Michigan, I am happy to be on the banks of the Au Sable >> River ... deeply contented, breathing in the cool air as the wind plays in >> the willow branches, whose leaves cling to me like kittens' drowsy paws. >> Far away ... the hot, humid summer days in Louisville where frosty alcohol >> in a can of West Sixth Brewery's porter or wheat beer or pale ale is >> welcome. Last night at dinner, as every night, there's "only" chilled >> water >> ... with big cubes of ice served in tall, thirst-quenching carafes in the >> lodge's restaurant. >> >> Here, I do not miss Beer, or Martinis, or Scotch, or Bourbon. >> >> Here, I am recharging deep cell batteries. >> >> Last night ... the water so tasted good ... the >> "coming-back-home-and-sitting-with-your-grandparents-and- >> rubbing-the-dog's-belly-with-your >> feet-good" ... after a full day in the sun doing what I love to do ... >> catching trout on Hoshihara-sensei's bamboo flyrod, wearing old sandals, >> an >> untucked shirt & shorts with a tired belt ... >> >> In all, I drank three carafes of water, taking a rest to imbibe Lodge Book >> memories and plow through dinner: local cheeses with honeycomb, dried >> cherries, toasted nuts and home-baked bread for the appetizer >> then pistachio & mushroom stuffed chicken with whipped potatoes and beurre >> blanc for the main course. No dessert, please ... I was only hungry to >> return to my bunk, read a book and looking forward to a good night's >> sleep. >> >> Waking up around 3 o'clock in the morning, my eyes welcomed ... no clock's >> red lights, no computer's blue screen, no street lights's fluorescent >> whiteness ... only an open window, stars and a nearly full moon. My ears >> were surprised ... no ambulances, no fire trucks, no chasing police >> sirens. >> I picked up my new copy of "Rivers of Sand", and continued reading about >> Josh's exploits and insights where I'd left off ... >> >> "It would seem that because the small stream angler is moving >> deliberately, >> because she is hiding behind the old muck banks and the piled corpses of >> trees, that she is fishing slowly, or in place, but she isn't. Ideally, >> the >> angler is fishing as fast as possible while still doing it slowly. Deer >> hunters call this still-hunting." Turning the page, I continued reading >> ... "In still-hunting, the hunter moves deliberately between objects that >> provide him cover. He goes from spruce tree, to old stump, and so on. To >> the wandering eye, the hunter appears still. Yet, he's always in a >> slightly >> different place, enjoying a slightly different vantage point. The >> small-stream angler is the same. He moves from one casting position to the >> next, adjusting to the ever-altering landscape of the stream. Roll cast. >> Cross-body cast. Sidearm cast. Steeple cast. On a small stream, a cast is >> not so much an action as it is a reaction to the topography, or character, >> of the stream." >> >> Agreed. And I continue reading... until awareness of the early morning sun >> filtering through the window ... while not strong enough to warm my bed, >> magnified my impulse to get out of bed and open the screen door ... and >> fish before breakfast ... my last full day and night here. >> >> I waded upstream, waiting to cast until I was well past Stephan Bridge >> ... still-hunting >> for sunspots in the cold river, I made my way slowly, taking baby steps >> toward a likely looking fishing hole under a weeping willow tree. Two >> Brittany spaniels were romping in their yard ... a tight fishing spot ... >> just enough room for a side-arm cast, I plinked a dry fly ant off a few >> leaves just above the hole ... just as the smell of coffee reached me and >> a >> grave baritone intoned: "you fish that hole the way it's supposed to be >> fished", a fair sized brown trout gulped my fly. >> >> "Thank you for the good luck, sir" as I heeled the fish in and let it go >> ... and the movie gods could not have cued it better: as soon as the hook >> was latched to my rod, the dogs jumped in the water for some petting and >> old tennis ball throwing. >> >> "What rod you fishing?" this James Coburn-dead-ringer asked. To my >> response >> about Hoshihara-sensei and making a flyrod in Hokkaido, he chortled ... no >> doubt finding humor that here, in the hallowed backyard of rod-makers Lyle >> Dickerson, Paul Young and Bob Summers, that I, an anonymous blond-haired >> green-eyed amateur, was in his backyard fishing hole with a Japanese-made >> bamboo flyrod ... "who would have thought" he muttered before recounting >> years of service in Yokohama, and Japanese friends who wanted to buy his >> Michigan cane classics. After a few minutes of chit-chat, he called his >> dogs in with a "Tight Lines" ... and I moved further upstream ... where >> staring me down, lustrous brown mink guarded their territory, hopping from >> branch to branch. Childhood memories of Rudyard Kipling's Rikki-Tikki-Tavi >> stories flooded me, and I was glad not to be mink-food. I sat down, on the >> far sandy bank and began to draw ... until my hunger for the lodge's good >> food overwhelmed my desire to stay here, under the tamaracks and cedar and >> white pine and willow, with wild animals guarding over me. >> >> Almost at the bridge, the morning's first canoers paddled down-river, and >> greeted me with a boisterous question, "how's the fishing". I couldn't >> resist asking with saucer-sized eyes pointing to the breeze-blown tall >> grasses, "did you see that big bear?" Strange, they didn't linger to see >> "the bear", and instead paddled faster down-river. >> >> At the Lodge's riverside stairs, I shook the water out of my sandals ... >> and to the bemusement of the flyfishing gods, I used both benches of the >> picnic table as my personal amadou patch ... hmmm, warm benches. A few >> minutes later, in the restaurant, at Marvin's Table, out quickly came the >> coffee and orange juice and then arrived The Tough Morning Decision: >> choosing whether to eat Cake for Breakfast or the All-Butter Croissant >> Dipped in Cinnamon-Vanilla Egg Custard topped with Macerated Berries. >> >> Life is Good when the toughest decision is between cake or croissants. >> >> More people obviously agreed: soon a dad with his two sons entered, nodded >> and sat down by the window, then a pair of grandparents followed ... I >> pulled a new book from the corner bookshelf, and over loaded Au Sable hash >> browns, chorizo sausage, salsa, poached eggs and fresh sourdough toast, >> began reading old-timers' reminisces of their senior high school summer >> fishing the Harriman Ranch waters. >> >> Knowing that I had "all day" ... that is, until 4 in the afternoon ... >> when >> I'd meet my last guide of the week for a last night's canoe trip, I >> returned to the water, waded upstream and kept going ... and kept going >> ... >> until almost lunch-time. I didn't cast much to the jumping and sipping >> brookies and brownies and the odd rainbow. Mostly, I admired big white >> pine >> trees, the birds, and the houses ... and spent time silently admiring the >> ones that were pleasing to me ... those getaways that managed to be tucked >> away, a only a weather-vane or chimney-stone visible above the tree-line. >> >> Here, I serenely wondered Big Thoughts and little thoughts ... and said >> prayers for hopes like that kids' days on the water should exclude loud >> parents drinking and texting and telling them what to do or how to do it >> ... >> after hours here, I then do the unthinkable: I check the time ... >> >> It's time to head back to the Flyshop to meet tonight's guide. Greetings >> exchanged in the shop, tonight's the night to explore the Mason Tract, >> with >> The Other Josh: sixty percent professional hunting guide + forty percent >> fly fishing guide. Josh's dad is a full-time forest manager ... and as >> Josh >> says with a smile, while his @ss is on the Au Sable, his heart is in the >> UP >> ... I smile too. Note to self: next year, visit family roots in the UP, >> and >> wet a line. >> >> A short drive to the boat-ramp, we're soon in ever-quieting waters. A Big >> Ant is cast on the first riverbend, and the Hoshihara-rod bends as a HUGE >> prehistoric black eyed brook trout is diving, flipping, and making a run >> for the roots. Remembering the week's wise lessons, I keep my rod shifting >> right, then left as if I'm playing the cello with one hand then the other >> ... my compassion and esteem for this fish rising until the wonderful >> feeling: letting this old fish quickly go. >> >> The sweet smell of wild cedar so prevalent is new to me ... and yet it is >> home. As I deeply inhale, my nose and lungs and brain and heart and >> fingertips and toetips deeply connect to my smile. As we canoe on, a flock >> of Cedar Waxwings chases mosquitoes, encircling overhead. Nearing a grand >> Blue >> Heron, instead of whoomp whoomp whoomping away at the sight of us >> intruders >> ... here, in the Mason Tract, as we get nearer, and nearer, it holds ... >> still ... priest-like perched in its pulpit, The Big Blue Bird tolerates >> us >> with a serious stare. There is Wind ... Ripples in the Water ... Leaves, >> Grass, Flowers ... Canoe ... Fishing Rod ... Line ... Oar ... and we >> follow >> the beautiful bends in the river, our path the oak-tanned, tea-stained >> water. My deep cell batteries are recharging. >> >> Here, there is little need for man-made structures to give tiny trout >> cover >> to grow into big trout; while sadly, the ash borer beetle has taken its >> toll on thousands of victims, many dozens fallen in the water hopefully >> protect the trout. >> >> "What is the river like during the Hex Hatch?" I ask. Josh volunteers that >> THIS is The Place for the Hex hatch ... once you get past the rows of >> combat-fishing testosterone pushing-and-shoving ... there are quiet spots >> on the river, and come late June, early July there are few bigger wonders >> than watching 20 to 30 inch trout gulp terrestrials all day and all night. >> >> As I wonder ... about large trout, I switch to the heavier Seele rod and >> Josh ties on a frog pattern. It's getting darker, and slightly colder. I >> wished we had hot coffee. Hunting for trout ... still, cast ... still, >> cast >> ... poled into position ... moving without moving. I hook fish, and Josh >> lets them go. This cycle repeats itself quietly, under a nearly full moon. >> >> Josh asks me if I'd like to stop by The Mason Tract Chapel, and pay my >> respects. >> >> I would very much. In my breast pocket, an old Kodak film canister >> protects one >> of Grampie's dry flies. I've been carrying this since Grampie's funeral >> more than a decade ago. This fly belongs at the Mason Tract Chapel. Maybe >> Grampie, maybe my godfather-Uncle Arbie tied it 50+ years ago ... or maybe >> Grampie got from it from Paul Young or George Griffiths or during one of >> his Montana summers as the cook-and-chuckwagon-chief. >> >> Dragging the pole, we slow in an already slow current. Josh drops anchor >> and ties the canoe the dock. >> >> "To get to the Chapel, follow the path" he directs. >> >> Under majestic trees, I whisper prayers to all those flyfishermen I miss, >> those friends and family who are gone or far away ... as I walk towards >> the Chapel. Made of stone, heavy timber and thick slate, with a large >> glass >> window opening to the hill-crest, the Chapel's beauty is magnified by its >> lack of a door. Talk about a Big Tent policy, I think ... and smile. I >> kneel, and say my prayers. Reaching into my breast pocket, I uncork the >> film canister, and remove the fly ... Grampie would love to look out here, >> and here, I leave his dry fly where it belongs, looking at the water. >> >> Sandwiches are waiting dockside, which we eat in silence ... broken by a >> hard slap on the water ... then a fishy splash. "Beavers and trout", Josh >> says. Closing my eyes ... I am grateful ... and even at 1:30 in the >> morning >> ... I did not want to stop fishing. But every journey has an end ... and a >> place to return to. >> >> The End. >> >> Christian Thalacker >> >> And remember ... Badgers don't fight fair ... that's why God made >> Dachshunds. >> >> PS: interesting links in no particular order ... >> >> Old fishing photos http://pickardrod.com/guides.html and rodmaker Lyle >> Dickerson's equipment http://pickardrod.com/Dickerson.html >> >> Rodmaker Bob Summers http://www.rwsummers.com/aboutbob.htm >> >> Emerald Ash Borer beetle >> http://www.emeraldashborer.info/michiganinfo.cfm#sthash.Dx2DCsbB.dpbs >> >> Cake for Breakfast and Other Menu Options >> http://www.gateslodge.com/documents/Gates%20Lodge%20Breakfast%20Menu.pdf >> >> Cottages+ for rent in Grayling >> http://www.vrbo.com/vacation-rentals/usa/michigan/northeast/grayling >> >> Willow trees http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willow >> >> Pay Day Loan Sharks and their Lobbyist-Turned-Governor >> http://bluegrasspolitics.bloginky.com/2009/10/01/ >> beshear-pledges-support-for-payday-lender-cap-despite-fund-raiser/ >> >> Paul Young Bamboo Fly Rods >> http://www.vintageflytackle.com/collections/paul-h-young-bamboo-fly-rods >> >> Book "Rivers of Sand" by Josh Greenberg >> http://www.gatesflyshop.com/Rivers-of-Sand-by-Josh-Greenberg_p_550.html >> >> Gates Lodge Dinner menu >> http://www.gateslodge.com/documents/Gates%20Lodge%20Dinner%20Menu.pdf >> <http://www.gateslodge.com/documents/Gates%20Lodge%20Dinner%20Menu.pdf> >> >> Some of Christian's 2014 Au Sable River trip pictures: >> https://www.flickr.com/photos/89369335@N02/ >> >> Rod-maker Larry Donahe >> http://www.startribune.com/printarticle/?id=230697711# >> >> MacArthur Genius Grant Winner Wilma Subra on Oil Spills+ >> http://www.prx.org/pieces/65000-macarthur-genius-says- >> bp-disaster-is-far-from-over >> >> Books from Robert (aka Supreme Court Judge John Voelker) Traver >> http://www.schulerbooks.com/search/apachesolr_search/robert%20traver >> >> > -- Harry Boyd 1211 Newman Street Winnsboro, LA 71295 http://www.canerods.com/ Bamboo Rods http://www.canerods.com/fixture.html Fixtures and Ovens ma...@canerods.com Shop and Cell phone(318) 282-1825 Home phone(318) 435-5476 -- -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the "VFB Mail" group. 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