September 2010

Riverside Conversations

by Rebecca on September 21, 2010

in Fly Fishing

Steve and his Pretty Bad Ass Casting

Before I took off on my Elk hunting trip I slipped out of town for an afternoon of Fly Fishing with Stephen Vance of Scandalous Sticks Flyrods.

I knew I wouldn’t be fly fishing for a couple of weeks so like a squirrel stocks up for winter, I inhaled as much Fly Fishing mojo as I could that day. I had a great time and caught enough nice browns to tide me over until I got back.

During a particularly frustrating fishing time for Steve, I attempted to be a good fly fishing buddy by offering a few words of encouragement and the conversation went like this:

Me: Well, at least your casting is really pretty!

Steve: What?! My casting can’t be pretty. It’s more like, bad ass.

Me: How about handsome?

Steve: Ohhh ssstop it. (said with a distinct lisp)

Me: Fine. How about, you display stunning casting abilities.

Steve: Stunning is a sexy lady in a racy red dress, not my casting.

Me: Good Point. Ok, ok. How about this? Your casting is Pretty bad ass.

Steve: Close enough.


Trading Waders for Camo

by Rebecca on September 20, 2010

in Rebecca's Field Journal

~ Dale aka Snowball and I ~

At the beginning of Sept. I skipped town once again and headed for no mans land middle Oregon for an Elk hunting trip in which I never had to carry my own bow. I wasn’t hunting on this trip, but rather there to hang out with great people and offer a few of my extraordinary talents to the hunting party.

Whats that? You would like to know what my extraordinary talents are? Well, for one thing, I have undisputed super hearing abilities, a real talent for hearing Bull Elk bugling from a distance when no one else can. Second, I was in charge of cow calling any potential Bulls at a perfect broadside distance from Snowball. And lastly, I brought along my dazzling photography and video skills to catch all the action. (Shhh, I know! They musta missed all the entries here where I bemoan the entire photography gig)

Elk were aplenty from day one and remained so until an arrow went flying from Snowballs bow next to the last day of our schedule trip. Not a day went by that we didn’t hear and engage with Bulls that were all tuned up and singing their distinctive bugles.

The ElkCruiser was not immune to the Adobe Bricks

We had great weather, we had rainy weather. We learned quickly is that if you take 1 part Oregon clay dirt and mix in 1 skiff of rain you end up with hiking and driving conditions that make for an interesting afternoon.

There’s nothing like hiking 20 steps and building up a 5 lb adobe brick on each boot to work out the old ass muscles. An additional bonus to the adobe boot bricks was with a swift outward karate chop type kick, one could potentially release said brick from boot sending it flying through the air to knock out Slayer who always walked in front of Snowball and I.

Snowball and I thought it was hilarious fun, Slayer…not so much. Occasional boot brick fights broke out, but when it was all said and done, no one suffered a special blend of Oregon mud concussion.

Slayer locating the Bulls

Slayer was the official Bull caller who sported his Outdoor Dick “Don’t be a Rut Jockey” sweatshirt the whole trip. Without a doubt he has a special talent for it. Not a day went by that he didn’t summon up several bulls that were in a randy mood for us to chase around. Snowball and I simply had to set up and wait for the festivities to stampede towards us.

I know the guys didn’t appreciate them as much as I did, but I happened to get the biggest kick out of the satellite bulls —spikes and raghorns– Several times we would be inside the kitchen of a Big Bull, bugles screaming, a tough stand off happening and suddenly a stampede of 3 or so bachelor Bulls would come racing around the ridge like they just crashed their first keg with the promise of loose ladies in attendance. Careless, wild-eyed, and vibrating with excitement. Then they would wind us and all the fun would be over in their loud exit.

~Barbara aka Camp Mama and Camp Shadow~

Snowball, Slayer and I were lucky hunters in that each night we would come off the mountain and return to Elk camp to the smells of a big dinner. We had our very own Camp Mama spoiling us rotten each day, filling our stomachs with good eats and generally making sure no one keeled over on the hillside from starvation. You can only live for so long on Snicker bars and Diet Coke…so I’m told.

A piece of advice to all who read this. Everyone should have their own Camp Mama on all adventures. It brightens the whole trip!

Snowball & Slayer on the Trout Pond

We did take one afternoon away from chasing elk around the mountain and visited a smallish trout pond with Fly Rods in hand. A 10 incher was a real trophy and for fish that can’t possibly get much pressure, the little guys gave us a run for our money. We figured it would be easy pickins and it wasn’t, but we certainly caught a fair amount of beautiful little trout before it was time to climb back up the mountain. Maybe they were dissing us because we still had our hunting camo on…

As I spent my days in the midst of archery nirvana, I couldn’t help but compare the many similarities between fly fishing and archery. To catch the big fish or to pursue the big bulls, conditions have to be pretty optimal and both situations leave little room for error. A bad presentation, whether a fly on the water or the angle an elk comes in can make or break the whole deal.

A good example of that scenario is this snippet video I took on the trip. As always, forgive the bad photography…or in this case, video quality. A steady hand when I’m crawling around on the ground is hard to come by. But, when the video really counted, I held steady. This Bull should have stopped, broadside, when I first called, but of course, he didn’t!
Thank you Slayer for putting this little piece together for me to share.



The Color of 6 A.M.

by Rebecca on September 19, 2010

in Outdoor Photo Journal

As Always, not retouched in anyway....

I’m back from a couple of weeks chasing Elk around the Mountain Tops of Central Oregon. Every single day I was up on the Mountain early enough to watch the sunrise and every single day I was still up on the Mountain to watch the sunset.

I had a wonderful time and will  muse about my experience here this week.

While I was gone this humble little website experienced a considerable spam attack which frankly irks me to no end. Since the under slim of the Internet world is still testing the new anti-spam protection I’ve installed, I’ve also instituted something I had hoped to avoid.

From now on, anyone who comments will have to have one “approved comment” before their comments shows up in real time. I apologize to the real people who take the time to comment and brighten my day…for the one time delay. As for the spammers, well, take that ya annoying assholes…(sorry Dad, but that cuss word was truly unavoidable and appropriate)

I hope everyone has been well and getting outside as often as possible.


Mr. Spots

by Rebecca on September 1, 2010

in Outdoor Photo Journal

In a rare stroke of clearness, I accidentally got a decent face on picture of this fish. Usually everything I try to do while I’m wrestling with fly rod, net, current, fish and bloody camera looks like a fingerprint smudge —However, in a desperate attempt to figure out what I was doing wrong, I did something so out of character that I’m appalled I’m going to admit it. But here goes…I pulled out my camera instruction manual and read a few pages. GASP.

Say Hello to my newly discovered Macro feature.

Let us not forget. I Fly Fish. I write. I don’t claim anything beyond those two things, especially not photographer.

Upon macro observation, I’m surprised I even got this bruiser in. Clearly someone (me) is slow on the Camera know-how and apparently slow on the hook set.