Tag Archives: nature

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Bananafish

As I say in the Ragtag Daily Prompt yesterday, I go for a float on the New River near Floyd, Virginia, with my cousin Steve and his wife Dyane. Steve says, “Let’s go for a float on Saturday.” I am picturing myself in an inner tube with a beer, very very relaxed.

On the day of the float, Steve says, “Do you want to fish?”

“Sure”,” I say. He is a pro fishing guide and I was not trying to angle a guided fishing trip. Also, I have not fished for years and have only attempted a fly rod once. And I was informed that I was terrible at it.

On the way to the New River, with Steve driving like a banshee and the boat trailer howling behind us, Steve says, “You have to get a fishing license. Go on line.”

Why do I need a fishing license? I won’t catch anything. I don’t know what I am doing. I struggle with my phone as the truck whips down the two lane roads and I get a three day fishing license for the State of Virginia.

We go to the New River and unload the boat. “This is the second oldest river in the world. The oldest is the Nile. They both flow North.” I am wondering how you “age” a river, but we are unloading the boat and fly fishing gear. No beer, sigh. I can’t drink it anyhow unless it is gluten free.

Steve’s son ferries the truck and trailer to the take out, and we are off in the boat. It’s a beautiful little boat, with a fishing seat in the front and a seat in the back and Steve is in the middle, rowing just enough to keep us 30 feet from the bank. Exactly.

“You remember how to cast, right.” says Steve, handing me a fishing pole. A fly fishing pole. The fly is about three inches long, has deadly looking hooks, and bubbles when you reel it in. “It drives the fish insane, so they hit it,” says Steve.

“Well, um. I pull on the line, right, and there is something you flip to let it loose?”

“Didn’t grandpa teach you to cast?”

“No, never.” My father and paternal grandfather did not get along and we didn’t visit much. I thought that Grandpa just was not interested in teaching girls to fish, but my aunt says, no, he was afraid of my father. They never made up.

Steve gives me a minute of instruction and I start casting. I am in the back of the boat, thank goodness. I am more worried about catching myself or my cousins or the boat or a tree, and can’t imagine catching a fish. The lure is a Whopper Plopper which bubbles pleasantly as I reel it in. I am quite terrible but don’t hook myself. Steve and Dyane take turns rowing and they are really really good. Steve is using a cork bug, a handmade and painted “popper”. He lands it on the water as light as a bit of dandelion fluff.

I am instructed to pull if I get a hit. Much to my surprise I get a hit and I pull, mostly because it startles and scares me. That fish gets off. The second fish hits Dyane’s line and she reels it in. I want a picture of a fish. Steve holds up the little smallmouth bass. Might not want that photograph for advertising, cuz. Back into the water it goes. Dyane catches another. I catch a fairly good sized one and here is the picture. I am just as surprised as I look, surprised that I caught a fish.

Now Dyane rows for a while. Steve fishes off the front, waving his pole and dropping the fly one foot from the bank. He is telling Dyane, “Watch the current and the wind, you want to anticipate so the boat is neither too close nor too far from shore.” I had asked if there were any rapids. No, says Steve. I have my big camera, because we are not going to tip over.

Storm clouds are building up. There is some thunder. It isn’t raining yet.

No fish for a bit. We come to a small side stream. Steve is rowing. He says, “Hey, this is where someone caught a Muskie last time we were out. I’m just going to drop a line in.” I have stopped fishing for the moment because I am tired and getting clumsy and I want to snack and take photographs. Steve picks up the pole with the Whopper Plopper and drops the lure in to the mouth of the stream and WHAM, a fish hits immediately. It is BIG.

“Row into the stream where it’s cooler, Dyane!” yells Steve. I grab the net. “No,” says Steve, “That net is too small.” I put it down and plop back on my seat, Steve is fighting the fish and Dyane climbs into the rowing seat and moves us towards the stream.

The fish is calmer in the cold, I guess. Or tired. Steve climbs out of the boat, picks up the Muskie and gently takes the hooks out. It looks like an alligator without legs. The head is all mouth and teeth and the whole fish is a yard long. (There is more lightning and thunder and closer. I am thinking the F word.) Steve puts it back in the water as soon as I snap pictures. “Gotta make sure it’s ok,” says Steve, watching the legless alligator sit on the stream bed. It looks grumpy. There are two more in the water by the boat.

BLAM! LIGHTNING HITS THE FIELD BEHIND STEVE SIMULTANEOUS WITH THUNDER AND HE JUMPS. “OH!” he says, “I FELT that. I just got hit by lightning!”

“Are you ok?” then I look in the water. “Are the fish floating belly up?” No, they are not. Steve is not burned, just a shock traveling through the earth and the water. “CAN WE GO NOW?” I say, “ROW!” There is now a shit ton of lightning all around us with thunder at the same time and the rain starts. I’ve got my camera in plastic right away, but I am eyeing the metal in the boat. “Is that conductive?” I say, as Steve starts rowing with the current.

“Hell, yeah,” says Steve. I am trying not to touch any of the metal in the boat, holy crap, ROW, get me OUT of here. Shore is no safer and now it’s pouring. Warm, but the LIGHTNING.

Steve is still pretty amazed, “I was hit by lightning!” Dyane and I just mutter “row”. The lightning moves further away with the edge of the storm and now it’s just raining a soaker rain.

The rain starts to let up a little. “Anyone wanna fish again?” says Steve.

“NO! There might be lightning at the back edge of the storm. ROW, please.”

Steve gets a phone call about the guiding the next day. I reach forward and try to keep rowing with one oar (I am DONE with this float) and he gets off the phone reasonably soon and rows again.

We arrive at the take out, with the tail edge of the storm passing over us (the back?) and one of his partner guides is loading their boat back onto the trailer. “Hey!” says Steve, “I got hit by lightning!” He tells them about it and then gets the truck and trailer. We pull the gear out of the boat. BAM! There is another big lightning strike right across the river, but none of us are in the water. Phew. I get in the truck. I’m not cold but very wet. I do have a change of clothes and a towel. We had planned to swim, but the lightning dissuaded Dyane and me.

We drove the truck back to the house and both Dyane and I had a small glass of wine. A friend has been motorcycling around the country and he told me about five different people killed by lightening in a thunderstorm up around Chicago. He had gotten off the bike and gone for shelter. Good decision!

Next morning we are all up making coffee and discussing breakfast, when Steve looks at Dyane. “It was the BANANAS!” he says.

“What?” I say.

“BANANAS!” says Steve.

“Oh!” says Dyane. “I forgot1”

“What?” I say again.

Steve explains. “Bananas are bad luck on boats. It’s a really old superstition. Dyane packed two bananas and you ate one and she ate one. You can’t take bananas on fishing boats.” I look it up. Here: https://www.aquamarinepower.com/bananas-on-a-boat/ . It dates to the 1700s. No bananas on fishing boats.

And that is my bananafish story.

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The photograph is my cousin Steve as he casts right before the Muskie hits, with Dyane and with the storm clouds piling up down river.

Here is his fly fishing site: https://newriverflyfish.com/

A day late, but for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fishing. You will see the Muskie on the RDP site from yesterday. But today’s post also fits today’s prompt: cloudy!

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Scree dream

In September, I hike with the three friends in the Ragtag Daily Prompt photograph. I have not really backpacked into back country in years. The last time I carried the pack was in Italy with my daughter, a few years ago. She wanted to plan the trip as we went and stay in hostels. We did.

We hike in the first day, up switchbacks from the parking lot at about 3200 feet, to a pass at 5400 feet, over and down to a campsite. The sites for cooking are separate from the sleeping sites and there are serious big metal bear boxes. We are to put everything in them, including the deet and toothpaste and anything that could possibly interest a bear.

We pack day packs the second day and climb back up to the pass. We peel off there to the trail to Sahalie Glacier. After being on oxygen at sea level for a year and a half, I am beyond delighted that I can actually do this. We go up and up and the trail gets worse and worse, until it is rather nasty scree. Two other people coming down say it is even worse, slippery, unstable, if we go on.

So, like sensible people, we stop for lunch. The slope is very steep and we each find a place to perch. Lunch tastes good. Then the other three want to go on. I don’t. I want a nap. They go on, I find a slab and the view from it is the photograph: down, down, down to the lake far below.

They will get me on the way back down.

And I do go to sleep. It’s all that night time call I’ve taken over years and years. I can sleep practically anywhere, including in a noisy casino in the past. I tuck up against the rock and the sun is almost warm.

I wake up. Two other people have come by. My inner clock thinks my people should have come by. Do I wait? Do I stay? There are more ominous clouds building up and this will be much more slick and dangerous if it starts raining. And we are exposed, for lightening.

Then I see a hat, on a curve of trail below me, moving. I swear it’s one of my party. But how did they go by without seeing me or waking me. THEY ARE DITCHING ME ON THE MOUNTAIN. No, that is ridiculous. Hmm. She is not with either of the guys. I debate for a minute, shout and then grab my things and head down.

I catch her. Once they left me, there really was not a clear trail. There were multiple sort of trails. And it was tricky. They separated a bit. She lost track of the other two and then picked the least difficult way down, which seemed to be a trail. It was NOT the trail that went by me, but she didn’t know that.

We found one of the guys below us, waiting. The last came down a bit later. None of them had come on the “right” trail by me. We headed down and stopped to put on rain gear. It rained lots! We were also above the tree line, but also I would say that we were above the marmot line. We saw eight hoary marmots marmoting around on our way down. They did not seem deterred by rain at all.

So that is how I was left in the scree to dream. I would have returned by the time it started raining anyhow, and the trail was good once we got past the scree. Not all the way to the lake in the photograph, the trail ran along a ridge that is not in the picture and wound down near the lake.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: scree.

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Arrive and engage

Home again! I came home from Grand Junction, Colorado via Denver. Wrong direction and an additional 440 miles, more or less. I spent two nights at my daughter’s home and she and her boyfriend took me to the Botanic Gardens and to a birthday high tea at the fabulous Brown Palace Hotel. I guessed it was built in 1880. Close: 1892. We had tea in the atrium with ten or more stories above us, balconies all around and stained glass at the top. Quite gorgeous.

From Denver, I drove north and then northwest, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon and Washington. The pass in Wyoming had sleet and slush, terrible visibility and ice on the road. The speed limit was 35 and everyone ignored it. That was my second day and over 400 miles and both the cat and I were very glad to arrive at the hotel. Sol Duc complained quite a lot the first day and then settled down.

Driving into Oregon over another pass, suddenly it is green. Shades of brown before that but once over the pass, bright startling green. In Washington, Snoqualmie Pass brings the smell of the Salish Sea and we are close to home! We left Denver on Monday and arrive in Port Townsend on Thursday afternoon, delighted to get out of the car.

And hooray for being home! It was a little disorienting after being gone for most of eleven months. I miss Elwha cat and I think Sol Duc wondered if he was in the house too. A friend came over and brought some staples and another friend dropped off my first CSA farm box, from Wednesday! How wonderful!

On Friday I went to walk with another friend downtown, while her husband and daughter went scuba diving. The alpacas were downtown, being socialized and wading in the sound. They have very expressive ears and clearly the sound tasted peculiar. They were all well behaved and so were we.

Home, arrived and engaged already, alpacas, friends and demonstrations against P47’s insanity.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: arrive and engage.

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Impersonal Day

After I post my story about nuisance on Thursday, I have a bigger nuisance show up. I get ready for work, tell my cat to have a lovely day, get in the car, open the garage door, back out and press the button to close the door.

It doesn’t close.

I try again.

It won’t close and is wonky at the base.

Dang it. I pull back into the driveway and investigate. Two of the wheels are out of the track and it’s obviously broken. There is a button lock between the garage and the house, but the garage also has stuff in it from the owners, including tools. I get a chair, stand on it and am clear very quickly that I can’t fix it.

Next I call work and apologize, but I can’t secure the house and can’t leave. They cancel my day. I have to dig around for the rental number but I find it. I call once, text, wait a bit and call again. He calls back and sends a person over.

The person take about half an hour to get there and he can’t fix it. They call a garage door company.

So now I am cooling my heels and stuck here. My kids all have wishlists for Christmas so I get everything ordered and sent off to my son’s. They will be rather inundated with packages since one Amazon order generated 7 packages all on different days. Goodness. I do some cooking, read a novel, and wait.

At 3 pm I let the rental person know that I am still waiting.

At 4:15 two garage door people show up. The wire at the opposite side from where the wheels are off is all tangled and off the rails. They have some specialized tools and it is fixed by 4:45. Part of the time is just them waiting for payment permission to go ahead with the fix. The garage door now opens and closes! I thank them and they head out. Turns out that their boss lives on my street.

A friend says, “You called in a personal day.”

“No,” I reply, “I called in a stuff goes wrong day. A very impersonal day.” My work did not give me any grief at all about it. We were already shorthanded but what could any of us do? Apologies to any patients who got canceled! We all do the best we can, right? Things break down sometimes.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompts: shopping and nuisance.

I deleted some past posts to make room but apparently not enough, sigh. Another bit of a nuisance. I can post a phone photograph but not one from my bigger camera.

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Maps

I really like maps. I have a small hiking book for the area and a book of hikes. When I am riding in my daughter’s care, I admire a map of Colorado, a geologic highway map and shaded elevation map. My daughter says, “You gave that to me when I moved to Denver. Take it!” She doesn’t like extra stuff. Use it or lose it.

The geologic side fascinates me. It shows color coded zones of different rock formations and has some history. Rocks and mountains, delightful!

Some of the hikes here are also mountain bike trails and loop in all sorts of ways. I try to remember to photograph the map at the start of the hike, so that I can refer to it on my phone. Lots of hikes are out of the range of phone towers, so I won’t depend on GPS!

Grand Junction lies in the Grand Valley and runs mostly east/west along the Colorado River and Interstate 70. They have named the streets on a grid with letters and numbers. This has some odd charm: I live off of 21 and 1/2 road, which is 21 and 1/2 miles from the Utah border. There are some 1/4 and 3/4 roads too. The lettered roads start with A at Orchard Mesa. There is an F and 1/2 road. How fun! There is also a downtown switch, where suddenly the numbered roads go from 1 to 7 and drop out of the numbers set from the Utah border. There is an article explaining here.

The photograph is part of the Colorado Geologic Map. The altitude map is on the other side. Isn’t it pretty?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: guide.

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Many stripes

Yesterday I hiked Echo Canyon in the Colorado National Monument. The first part is a shared hike, with the Devil’s Kitchen Trail, No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail and Old Gordon Trail. Old Gordon and Echo split off and then they split.

I did not start hiking until ten yesterday and it was already heating up. Echo Canyon is partly shady, once I am in the canyon. The rocks are gorgeous and there is a plethora of stripes. How beautiful!

At the head of the canyon and all through it, you can see where water carves. It would be amazing to see this waterfall, but since there are flood bits in the tops of trees, it is probably way too dangerous.

There is a pool at the base now and there was a small stream above ground in part of the canyon and a swampy bit.

And am I seeing faces?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: plethora.

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doppelbird

A doppleganger for a bird! Three hummingbird moths were hovering around this flowered bush yesterday! They are huge, 2 by 2 inches and I think the proboscis that curls up must be another 2 or 3 inches long. Beautiful!

And where am I with these strange bird like moths?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: doppelganger.

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Bonfire metabolism

We are having our first real cold snap, with snow and lots of accidents two evenings ago. We have Anna’s hummingbirds, who can over winter. By yesterday morning, the temperature had dropped to 17 degrees F. Both of my hummingbird feeders were frozen.

I went out to wrap a hot towel around one. The front-of-the-house Anna’s buzzed me, inches from my face, to let me know she is HUNGRY and the food IS NOT AVAILABLE. The hot towel didn’t work, so I took the feeder in for a bit. She didn’t like that at all.

This looks pretty silly, but success!

The tiny feeder is one to hold in my hand. I have three, so I rotated them during the day to keep thawed food. Anna Front still spent energy chasing other hummingbirds away. She doesn’t look too upset, does she?

Anna’s hummingbird guarding her feeder and grooming in a rhododendron

The photos and video were taken through my window from my desk.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bonfire.