Fishing the Crooked River

Ever since Ron had his surgery he has been looking forward to being well enough to take that last overnight fishing trip to the "Crooked River" near Prineville Oregon. It was so important to him, and he has done so well that I was determined that he would have his special trip.

We went shopping for a new fly rod, since he had broken his last new one first trip out. He was thrilled with the action of this new fishing pole and even more eager to get going. Since it was October and his destination is in high desert country with temperatures down near freezing at night, I decided against tent camping and reserved a motel room in Prineville for TWO nights.


We traveled East through the burned out forests of the Black Butte fire in 2007 which left over 5400 acres of scared land. All around Suttle Lake the trees stand blackened. The damage was less toward the resort area. Passing the sight and looking down at the docks I remembered how my daughter had slipped through the ice, when she was a teenager many years ago. She was with a youth group retreat when she tested the ice in her long heavy winter coat, only to be rescued by the young minister who really had his hands full that weekend. We have so much to be grateful for as I look back over the years. So glad I have her with me today as a best friend and confidant.

We drove on into the Ponderosa Pine Forests and made our way to Sisters Oregon. We stopped for a little while in this delightful little resort town and then headed toward Redmond and Prineville. We took pictures of the beautiful Sisters Mountain Range, Mt. Washington, and Mt. Batchelor. The sky was blue – the fall colors painted the rolling range land and the snow capped mountains circled around the horizon.



I guess I knew that Ron always fished the Crooked River – but never really thought about where it was and how breathtaking the scenery could be. Maybe he told me over the many years that he made these trips alone while I was working and focused on career. I am so glad to have the precious time now to focus on Ron and his love of nature and to join him in the experience.

When we entered the Ochoco I was amazed. We dropped from the flat dessert floor down into the wide canyon surrounded by the volcanic ridge that surrounds Prineville and the Crooked River. Click here to see online photos
http://www.fs.fed.us/rb/centraloregon/about/photos.shtml
As we drove out of Prineville toward the Crooked River – the canyon was very wide with acres of green pastures dotted with literally thousands of Black Angus cattle, with a few horses mixed in. Once in a while there would be deer feeding with the herds. We first encountered the Crooked River in the ranch lands but after about 7 miles we crossed a cattle gate which ended the free range and marked the beginning of the BLM recreational area.

The Canyon grew more narrow as we traveled along – fishing here and there. At one stop I set up my medicine circle for a meditation and hoped Ron would be gone fishing at least an hour. He was gone an hour and a half, during which time I had visits from a Golden Eagle who did three fly bys, two Blue Heron, several King Fishers, and to my amazement a Osprey flew by just above the water. Across the river I watched a River Otter carefully slip into the swift current. I listened to song birds over my head talking to each other in a language I could almost understand. The majestic canyon walls soared hundreds of feet on both sides of the river. At the very top in front of me was a giant grandmother Juniper tree. The scent of Juniper filled the air – and the lovely blue berries stood out on near by trees. It was a sacred time of oneness and peace to treasure.


We moved on up the canyon which Ron explained to me would eventually lead to an earth filled damn holding back the Prineville Reservoir. We had lunch at "Haystack Rock Park" before going on to explore the Reservoir.


Staring up at these gigantic ancient canyon walls – I told Ron, "right now I wouldn't be surprised at anything"! A dinosaur could come crashing down the wall and it would seem to fit.

During our trip home we went to the headwaters of the Metolius River. This is one of those amazing sights where water appears from caverns under the rocks and within a few yards is a full grown raging River. It is limited to fly fishing only and all fish must be released. We played there for a while soaking in the pristine beauty.



All in all – we had a Wonderful Fishing Trip. I got to know a little more about this wonderful Man I have spent 34 years with – and am still in awe of his gentle strength.



Best wishes to you all.