Fish Fingers

Well I was wrong to despair. For all is not lost when you have The Hope. I had The Hope, I just didn't see it buried under all the other conflicting emotions. But there it was, and no doubt it's saved my trip.

mmmm, smells good to be back!

Crossroads

John loves chuckin' meat. Browns love eating it.

Nnyep, 'bout on par for the course.

Back in Ch'Ch, sitting at a crossroad. John was delivered to the airport early in the a.m. yesterday, so once again it's just a coupla guys. We had a great time together, the three of us, but the van was tight no doubt. I really just wish we coulda turned the big guy on to a few more (big) fish in his three weeks down here, but hey, he caught more than I have since I arrived, so maybe I shouldn't feel so bad? Everyone's saying it's the worst season they can remember, but I needn't expound on that anymore. Being in New Zealand is enough of a consolation prize in and of itself, and in his time here John lived the quintessential Kiwi experience: chasing sheep, meat pies, Speights, Fergburger, sandflies, fish and chips, penguins and sea lions, Queenstown, tramping into huts, monster trout you have no chance of catching, whitebait, the beauty of Manchester after 10pm, some local color, and so on. So it's back to Montana for him, where I'm sure he'll proceed to freeze his bullocks off until April, when he has the distinct pleasure of flying up to the Yukon Delta in Alaska to assist his wife with evaluating over-winter survival of juvenile salmon in frozen beaver ponds, ie where he'll once again proceed to freeze his bullocks off again until... oh, maybe June? As fate would have it, I'll see him up there again around that time as I recently accepted a position for the crew leader on the Kwethluk River salmon weir. John and I first met on the Kwethluk two years ago when we both worked up there, and I can't say I'm terribly thrilled to be going back, but what it is. It's tough to turn down a good job offer when the one you're holding out for isn't a given... So it could be purgatory again, or it could be worse. Maybe not, I guess we'll see.

But what to do next? I need a ticket back stateside and that's hanging over my head. Should I stay or should I go? Who can complain about being in New Zealand for the winter not working? Who can't complain about one fish in two months and shitty weather and high water? I suppose I could be back in Maine freezing my bullocks off, shoveling snow for a paycheck, but obviously that's not appealing. But then I think about the tax man and the fun he's gonna have with me here in a few months and that might be even less appealing... I do love winter. I do love New Zealand. I don't like shoveling snow. I don't like not catching fish. I do like a little stability every now and then. I do like living on the road without a plan. I don't like rain and high water. I don't like waking up at 3am to plow heavy wet crud. Decisions, decisions. Perhaps this is just one of those instances where I just need to chill out as it will work itself out in due time. So until then, we shall fish.

Meat me at Hope

I'm not sure what direction we're headed, nor for how long we'll be out. We've got a handful of some backcountry rivers we'd like to get into and spend several days fishing each, all within reasonable distance of Ch'Ch, so I imagine that's where we'll start. It seems hardly worthwhile to travel too far when the desirable water south and west of here is receiving the brunt of the foul weather. La Nina; how I do loathe thee. Funny how just a simple letter would make all the difference in the world about my feelings towards you: Pac NZ = teh suck. Pac NW = the win. But I'm not skiing W3st Co@st powder, and you're not my friend down here.

Chaos Theory

(From last week...)

Where to begin? Really I haven't the faintest, but for starters I'm just gonna reel off some endless rabble about what's been plaguing my thoughts, toying with my emotions, and working mischief in my life. I don't know what this will accomplish, but I guess it's a start and for some reason it seems like maybe spewing what I can into words will hopefully get me somewhere.

I feel as though my mind's been scattered a million different directions for months now. There's not much in my life that I'd describe as "concrete", "stable", or "secure", but it's kinda been that way for years now, and even though I'm here now in New Zealand, somehow the second year in a row on what is arguably the dream trip of a lifetime for many folks, I'm not feeling terribly settled. The funny thing is that by all rights I have less worries now than I did here last year, but that void seems to have been filled with utter, sourceless mayhem. Trip planning, travelling, working, preparing, taxes, holidays, women, friends, future work, family, fishing, moving, money, skiing, music, relaxation, and tension are just a few of the fiendish imps that have been tearing me in a million different directions simultaneously. Maybe it's the character that that trip has seemed to acquire for itself. Maybe it's that I've been a bit cavalier or too nonchalant about everything. Or maybe it's just the weather, which is seemingly equally unsettled. I think that's a lot of it, I guess. Well, at least part anyway. Regardless, nothing seems for certain, at least not enough to grasp onto and even take for granted with what little consolation that might provide.

It's been rough. We've had a few good days on the water, days where the sun shines bright and the water's clear and the fish are out and active and we're in high spirits and having a ball just living the dream. But those days have been few, and I'd say far between but they seem to come in spurts. We haven't had a spell like that for quite some time now. Instead, it's windy, cloudy, sprinkling, misty, or downright pouring. It seems like since then the water's have been blown out, murky. So it goes. What rivers we have come across that seemed in decent are pounded by other fisherman making the fish are extra spooky or just plain glum with lockjaw. To date, I've landed one decent fish and one okay fish, and a handful of measly peaslys. And one chinook parr, on a size 16  BWO softhackle. I'll take it, cuz right now that's all I've got.

I think everyone's heard the line from that Sublime song, "summertime and the livin's easy...". I think that's part of it too. It's summer down here, technically speaking, but it hasn't been very summer-like at all, at least not consistently, and in turn the livin' hasn't felt very easy. I think I need more of those cloudless days, warm temps and abundant sunshine to aid my not-so-sunny disposition. And I think it would help the fish too, which would also help me. Maybe cuz it hasn't been too sunny they've been feeling glum and are not looking up for big, juicy bugs to float their way. February's here now, which is essentially our equivalent of August, so things should start looking up, metaphorically and literally speaking, so maybe I just need to be a little more patient? I hope so, but either way the interim's been wreaking havoc inside my head.

So... As far as looking up: I've got a music festival to jam out to on Saturday in Queenstown with some new friends. Fat Freddy's Drop is playing, which is one of my favorite Kiwi bands, and I am very excited to see them play. I've got an interview with the US Fish & Wildlife Service in Anchorage tomorrow for a job I've been wanting a long time now. It looks promising thus far. Immediately after that I have to call the USFWS office in Kenai about a few positions there I could go back to for the summer. I don't want to be hasty, but it unlikely I won't be going back to AK sometime come spring. Treats! And of course, I've got the better part of two months left here to chase some more of the tail I've been so desperately craving. And those two months are "August" and "September", which any half-decent fisherman knows to be some of the best dry fly fishing months the year has to offer. So we'll see what shapes up.