Day Two Oregon

We are the best, right?  We can make shinola out of shit, can't we?  Turn lemons into margaritas, right?  

Perfect conditions when I woke this morning, rain, cold, and wind.  Lisa was waiting for me with great anticipation.  The girl I tell you does not show her age what so ever, I mean so what if the fan for the heat makes a loud noise and the driver side wiper fell off on the highway.  Did I mention it was raining?   She could not wait to get back to her task at hand, take note Waylon and Peat.  

Make it to the parking lot to find one lone truck with a camo dog carrier in the back, great I though another mutt running around with its head cut off.  Make the hike out and make it to the Old Spot by 6am.  The guy with the dog is in my spot so I'm now in search of usable water.  Being the best, you would have thought that because my waders leaked last time out I would have ditched them and used one of my three new pairs sitting fresh in boxes.  No being the Yankee that I am I thought I could get one more use out of them and what the hell it's not that cold today and there is not a lot of water, right?  Well in search of usable water I had to cross some waist high stuff and my boot filled up immediately, filled.  My only option was to cut a bunch of fresh brush and make a huge pile and sit in the middle of it.  With that done I set out my blocks in 3 inches of water and wait.  It's raining pretty good now and the wind is whipping.  Sitting there I'm questioning myself, my expertise, and what drove me to get out of my warm bed.  Just then Bob hits me with a text, "How's it going EH?"  It's him that drove me, that gave me the strength to sit there with a frozen foot and with the wind and rain smacking me in the face. With his encouragement I withstood the elements.  

The morning fly was dryer than my boot that was not swamped.  A single then a cloud of mallards so far up that they wanted nothing to do with a bush sitting on the side of a river sticking out like a sore thumb, surrounded by blocks in three inches of water.  I was pathetic and I knew it.  A set of pintails fly through at mach speed and they hit the guys spread across from me, where I should be, and he folds one of them.  Then with a whistle his dog retrieved it, that was nice to see.  By now it's pouring and the wind just blew my pile of brush away from around me. I'm better than this I think to myself, I'm smart enough to know that today is not my day, I have not won but I have not lost either.  I know that there is a fresh pair of waders back home and Wednesday morning the water will be up.  Bags are packed gun is cleaned.