I’m up in my hometown on the trout opener (although the river is now open all year). We are up with the family to visit my dad since we haven’t been up in ages. With a recent calf rupture, I can’t really walk around the banks and rocks of the Upper Sacramento on this trip. So, this is a non-fishing trip to a fishy place on a fishy weekend.
Dunsmuir is a mountain town and you can feel the difference.
Up here the mornings are crisp. That crispness is just not in the air down by the Bay, down in the flats or valleys. Maybe it’s the lack of moisture in the air, I’m not sure, but the sharpness of the morning air and the hit of evergreen it carries is something that feels unique.
Sunsets are hastened and sunrises delayed by the canyon walls.
We went to the Fireman’s Breakfast on Saturday morning. A very small-town thing. The fire department here is all volunteer and they move a couple of trucks to make way for tables and chairs. At the breakfast I managed to see an old day care provider from when I was tiny, an old football coach and the son of one of my classmates (who, it appears, is now one of the volunteer fire fighters). I have no idea if there is such an event in Alameda and if there was, it wouldn’t be the same. There would be hundreds of people instead of dozens and I wouldn’t know any of them.
Hanging out in the Ted Fay Fly Shop is almost as good as fishing. Seeing the folks coming in and preparing to head out on the water is something I’ve always enjoyed. The conversations are easy, interests are aligned and people are in a good mood.
It is getting harder and harder to get up here. Between careers and kids it is just not easy. But I enjoy it when I’m here. I’m making a home down in the Bay Area, but this still feels like home to a part of me.
Next time, there will be rods in the car.
Swing Time
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Tags: Dunsmuir
