Well, its all good here.
I was feeling a bit anxious, and maybe not entirely myself, and I really wasn’t sure why. But tonight at dinner, (Noodles and cucumber salad) it occurred to me what was causing me to be a bit, mmmm,emotionally off balance.
(Quick pause while 25 year old me punches me in the face for discussing my emotions.)
The issue, the “splinter in my mind” is the fact that I STILL haven’t completely gotten over John Prine dying.
I remember John Prine as the beginning of music as little kid, in my moms dodge pick up truck, learning every John Prine song ever by heart.
But it turned out NOT every single John Prine song. Many years later I was parked in the lot at the beginners hole on the Kalama river in…..September? It was 2:30 in the morning and I had driven all night to take my first try at Kalama summer runs. I sat in the cab of my truck scanning the radio and trying to decide if I should try to sleep or just wait for daylight, when a familiar voice came across the airwaves, singing unfamiliar words.
That was the first time I heard John Prine sing “daddy’s little Pumpkin”.
Not one of his best, but to hear it in a strange place on a unknown radio station was comforting, and gave me a sense of confidence.
This is a fishing story, so I will tell you I crushed them when the sun came up, and its true. I caught them from the camp ground to the canyon on dry flies and beads and everything in between.
BUT, the point is John Prine has passed.
And here we are, living in strange, and maybe even frightening times. And now we don’t even have anyone to write a song that will explain it all, be comforting, a little bit funny, honest, and probably rhyme.
So thats all figured out, which is a relief.
Everything else is just fine here on the Kerr compound.
Its seems like the present has been put on hold and we had a refreshing return to days gone by. A cool wet summer with great snow pack and floatable rivers right into August. I can’t remember the last time.
As a completely respectable spring chinook run came to a close we saw a resurgence of Sol Duc Sockeye. More than I have seen in a long time, and surprise, surprise, summer coho in ample plus numbers. These little devils are some of my favorite. So finicky and strange.
Its a fish for the angler who has caught everything. Count on being pleasantly frustrated.
So, with chanterelles popping up in the yard, we are clearly careening headlong into fall.
And we have some cancellations on some pretty prime dates, so an opportunity has just presented itself to you.
Just like that, kinda of a reward for reading all the way to the bottom here. Like a prize at the bottom of the cereal box.
So if you want some old school west end awesome on your fishing calendar, email email@example.com .
Jim Kerr, raincoastguides
Blow up your TV
Throw away the paper
Move to the country
Build yourself a home
Have a lot of children, feed’em on peaches
try and find Jesus on your own.