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Ramblings from "The Junkie"
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Adventures
Maybe it was the promise of the thaw. Maybe it was the promise of the river. Maybe it was the Irish whiskey talking to me at midnight as I tied up another batch of flies for the trip, which would officially begin in less than four hours. Then again, maybe it was the recurring fixation to explore the affects of a long road trip while meeting up with my fishing buddies in yet another quest for a fish.
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All I know is the end result. And numbers can’t measure the result. It’s simply immeasurable. My quest wasn’t about how many, how few, how long, how big. My quest was for the uncertainty, the experience, the trip, the tunes, the friendship, the laughter, the stories, the fresh air, and the flow of the river around me. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, my quest includes the millisecond in time where my fly is drifting at the right speed, in the right place, at the right time for a fish to take it and connect with me in a way that breathes new life into my soul. Maybe that’s why I am the Junkie; Coo-coo Ka-choo.
As I sat at the vise, admiring the veil of white yarn that encircled the Cerise core of my last nuke egg for the night, I imagined the drift. I was only hours away, but I was there already. With the numerous phone calls and follow up e-mails behind me, I thanked the powers that be. Specifically, John Powers. I drew in the last of the dark amber courage and stowed my egg wallet in my bag. There wasn’t much left to be done except to crawl upstairs, get into bed and try to fall asleep. Thankfully, I managed to slip into the pre-fishing night’s sleep rather quickly. That was a good thing as the alarm was set for 3:45am.
“MEET THE NEW BOSS. SAME AS THE OLD BOSS.” There’s nothing quite like waking up to THE WHO at 3:45am. I love THE WHO. I quickly re-set the alarm and got out of the door by 4:12am. Blasting down the road, I still tasted the Powers whiskey over the stronger-than-average cup of coffee. It didn’t bother me much. In fact, it brought back memories of my 12-day stay in Ireland back in 1986. What a life-enhancing trip that was! Needless to say, the quest was in full gear.
As U2, TOM PETTY and THE BOSS helped to melt away the drive time it occurred to me how far I was going for this particular quest. This wasn’t a mid-day lunch break to the nearest river; this was a commitment of another kind. As the exit signs flew by I could almost hear my brother’s voice saying, “Dude. You’re fuckin’ crazy. I can’t believe you’re going that far for 4 or 5 hours of fishing. IF YOU’RE LUCKY.” That’s where we are totally different. Maybe that’s where a lot of people are different. Too many people I know seem to forget the adventure. Or maybe they’ve succumbed to the daily rituals of our “Squeeze Parkay” life. Think about Squeeze Parkay for a second. It’s butter in a bottle. Heaven forbid if you actually had to unwrap a stick of butter and get out a knife to spread it on your waffles. Or what about Cheese Whiz? Yeah, that’s got to be good for you. Just press the tip, squirt the desired amount of the so-called “cheese” onto the Triscuit and have a swig of Yoohoo! MMM, MMM GOOD! Well, after the thoughts of my brother had passed and the Squeeze Parkay had run out, I was left with the twisted memory of an old college roommate who used to serve up Cheese Whiz on his girlfriend. No wonder he called her is little Triscuit!
Anyway, I’ve never thought of an adventure as being limited by time, or anything else when it comes to exploring new rivers. And maybe that’s why the effort put forth in searching out untested waters has always paid off. It must be something about the entire process of the fishing adventure that compels me to continually pursue new and more distant locations. This unique quest, this particular adventure would be no different. The rendezvous point was almost as far for my fishing buddies as it was for me. They had a significant commitment in drive time as well. I wonder what they were thinking as they watched the exit signs fly by. I wonder what preparations, what promises they made to their loved ones, what purpose was driving them for an immeasurable result. I imagined us standing in the water, casting a line and letting it drift, each with our own technique. Each with our own presentation, our own patterns, yet our similarities in attitude and sense of purpose were identical on this day. That is what this adventure was all about.
In the grand scheme of things, each of us has a certain amount of time to participate and live life. So why not enjoy the adventure, take the tunes, stow the gear, pack the rods, bring the maps, and find an immeasurable result. You can always come back tomorrow and enjoy a freshly packed can of Cheese Whiz!
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