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Take Me To The River………….

May 26, 2008

It was “off to the river again,” time; N’s chance to satisfy his fly-fishing need.

After flying to Salt Lake City and renting a car we still had much traveling to do: through Utah, Wyoming and back into Utah to reach the Green River.


Ah, the Green River; the much spoken about, almost mystical place where N loves to go. This was to be my first visit and for some reason I was feeling reluctant about going. I felt like staying home and voiced this to N. “No way, ” was his instant reply, “I want you to come with me, this place is special.” Okay, I thought, I’ll sit in the boat, camera in hand and float down the Green River with him for two days. It’s only a short amount of time to be away from home.


Unlike N, fly-fishing is not my passion nor my bailiwick, it’s not even a remote interest, but one day in the boat with him in some new and beautiful place is a treat. After that I begin to squirm in my seat, unable to be enraptured by the repetitious cast, catch and release. But it’s a pleasure for me to see him derive such enjoyment, no that’s not the right word because it’s more of a renewal for him when he’s out on the water with “his” fish.

Dall (also called Thinhorn) sheep coming to the river to drink.

The day we arrived it was 85 degrees; T shirt weather; the air was still and clear, the sun “unencumbered” by clouds. This was good. The next morning however, was a different picture: overcast, cool with a prediction of rain. And we were going to be on the river all day. Suddenly the clothes I had brought with me seemed inadequate, plus I only had a rain jacket and nothing to cover my legs. The local fly-fishing shop sold waterproof pants and jacket for $8.00 which I hastily donned, but for that price it seemed like the equivalent of a few plastic groceries bags stuck together.

Out on the river in our drift boat, the rain began to fall, the wind whistled through my rain hood and the temperature was making my bare hands numb. Of course I had no gloves with me. Even the plastic bag outfit I was wearing didn’t keep out the rain and wind. After an hour or so – or an eternity – of this fun on the river, N decided to call it quits for the day, as hypothermia was beginning to set in.

Run off from the cliffs.

Back at the cabin, we defrosted in the shower, laughed a lot over the day’s unraveling, had dinner and watched through the window as snow started to fall.

Our little log cabin.

N did venture out the following day onto the river with extra clothing, but I stayed in the cozy cabin and read. The next morning we set out for our long drive back to the airport in Salt Lake City (for our flight back to the NW), through the mountains in what was beginning to look an awful lot like a blizzard.

On the road in snow and sleet.

Visibility getting worse and worse.

Most of the bends in the road had no guard rails, which made the drive back a nail-biting adventure filled with nervous laughter – on my part anyway – as I think N was enjoying himself.

Back to a beautiful clear landscape.

N had said that the Green River was a special place, and it well might be under different circumstances, but for now it’s going to remain in my mind as an adventure we shared; its “specialness” something we can both reminisce about.

One Comment leave one →
  1. May 28, 2008 7:34 pm

    enjoyed reading around your site.

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