I first met Chuck, the fishing specialist be-hind the counter at Anderson’s Sporting Goods in Corvallis, OR, on a sunny March day nearly 30 years ago. Chuck was part of the red-plaid world—he lived hunting and fishing, and he was as traditional as it got. He had the right look, athletic and outdoorsy, with a trim mustache and a slight tan even in early spring. Behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, reading glasses balanced near the end of his nose, he fiddled with a reel. “Hiya, can I help you?” he asked. Instead of the usual “just looking,” I piped right up, “I’m looking for a good all-around rod for the trout around here, and some flies.” Chuck pointed me in the right direction. Going a bit further, I went on, “I’m here on a six-month temporary transfer. Is there good fishing nearby?” He sat back, pondered a few seconds, and then asked, “Only six months?” “Yes. But I’m already thinking it may become permanent.” I’d fallen in love with the Pacific Northwest as soon as I’d stepped off the plane. Chuck took out a pad and pen and said, “This is a list of waters you need to see and fish before you leave Oregon, just in case this transfer really is only six months.” The list read: #1 Deschutes River #2 Metolius River #3 North Umpqua River #4 Crane Prairie and Davis Lake #5 Diamond Lake I geared up. I tied flies and studied the Oregon Gazetteer to plan each weekend on the water. My new Oregon-based girlfriend and I started weekend road trips to each water on “the list.” By mid-June, I’d made my first foray to the Metolius and was gobsmacked by the clear waters, big ponderosas and the quaint little wide spot in the road called Camp Sherman. As we drove into the Metolius Basin and set about checking out campgrounds along the upper river, we decided Gorge campground looked about right—a little smaller than the others, but with bigger pondero-sas and an intriguing name. We hiked into the gorge, where the valley narrows to a lava chasm channeling the placid upper Metolius into runs and deep pools. We watched unimaginably big fish fin in the vivid tur-quoise water. We decided that weekend the Metolius was the most beautiful water we’d ever seen. But the fish didn’t come easy. LEFT On the Metolius River in winter, it’s warmer in the water than out. Paul Snowbeck makes his way around snow-covered logs and drop-offs to catch that clockwork afternoon hatch. Photo: Arian Stevens THE FLYFISH JOURNAL 057
The Flyfish Journal Volume 13, Issue 2: Page 57
