A Chase That Never Ends
What does a city girl who could balance on the steps of a San Francisco cable car know about mountain lake fishing in Oregon? NOTHING!! I can tell you from my own experience, one Labor Day in 1951.
As a new bride to an outdoorsman like Tom, I was expected to smile while coping with his rugged life, like sleeping on the ground sans tent, cooking over an open fire, squatting over a pit, or arising at 4 or 5 a.m. in the cold, black mornings ... (on one occasion, I lost my cool and threw a fry pan full of bacon at the nearest tree).
This particular day we were camping at East Lake (Oregon Cascade Mountains) with our good friends, John and Ruth -- the most avid fishermen in the world, I swear! In fact, it was almost an obsession with Ruth. They had the boat, so we were obliged to be ready before dawn in order to get a good fishing spot. That made no sense to me as you could hardly see your hand in front of your face, let alone the rod tip; it was THAT foggy. When it finally cleared, we were surprised to find ourselves in the middle of about 20 other boats.
My black mood soon turned to excitement when those feisty rainbows began biting on just about anything we threw at them. Ruth and I each caught eight, and mine was the largest -- a twenty-incher!!
But my most significant catch that day was the FEVER -- the beginning of a lifetime chasing those wonderful, God-given gifts: FISH!!
Mary Morris
Portland, OR
Here are the trout we caught Labor Day at East Lake (we’d eaten some already).
Ruth and I each caught 8 and I caught the biggest. (We caught 24 fish altogether.) ↓
