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On Becoming an Outdoors Woman
- Author:
- Janiece
- Date Published:
- February 26, 2007
On Becoming an Outdoors Woman BOW by ja
We drive out of town on a cool, wet Friday morning listening to the melodic sounds of Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, and Jewel. J - It seems to be the theme of the weekend. Jack, Joan, Janiece, Jason, and Jewel. We arrive in our grand state of tire chains and puff jackets, contrasting the pristine snow-covered Suttle Lake cabins.
The first priority of events is learning the intricacies of fly tying. It may seem tedious but it feels liberating in comparison to the long laborious hours of other arts. The end results of our tying are only wispy, small milestones to the greater achievement of catching a fish with the rod and fly.
Early next morning the van went click clacking down the road following the path of the pavement peeking through the snow. The chains meeting the hard surface of the path reverberates through our bodies giving some of us a dizzying head rush.
The Metolius River, our final destination. We bust out our fly rods and practice our fumbling beginner technique on the once snowy ground. The rain begins to fall lightly while we walk to the water and the rain mimics how our flies will hit the surface. A ridge of conifers rise up behind a group of women, as they huddle in their jackets to keep dry, the snowy trees seemingly create a warm embrace around them. Our bodies, forgetting the jarring journey, are finally still.
The rain stops and is subdued by the whisk of our lines and the clicking of our reels. A holler explodes our tranquil angling. A glimmering Rainbow Trout breaks the tension of the water and the first fish of the day is conquered.
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