A Known Associate
There is that saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer. That is garbage. When your friends leave, you are not going to care what your enemies do to you. I would do a lot for anyone I call a friend. Enough that it is probably closer to a character flaw than a trait. However, I would do absolutely anything for a handful of them. After a recent exchange with one, I was told if I ever needed help killing someone to not hesitate to call. And while he was joking about the killing, I understood and the feeling was mutual. So for one of these people to move away, further than driving distance, burns in my heart a little more than normal. It makes roping in an accomplice to commit a felony a little more difficult.
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The five hour trips I make to far reaches of the Deschutes River Canyon in Oregon are to fish its’ amazing waters. It is a magical place and typically, I make the most of my time there by fishing hard. I crawl out of my sleeping bag and am in the water with the rising sun and fish until the bats are chasing my fly. Everything about the trip revolves around maximizing time in the water and then around the campfire. I do see my buddies during the day, but it is typically at 100 foot intervals on the river. Far enough to be able to raise a fist for a fish to the net or lament the loss of a solid fight.
The air for this early March trip was entirely different. Not only was it literally different, seventy degrees and sun making the fishing pretty slow, but with DPow!’s departure from the Pacific Northwest imminent that 100 feet on the water felt too far. There was treasure to search for. The boots spent less time being wet as the screwing around and idle conversations took longer. No one was dwelling on DPow heading east, but we were all making our time. Having our last day.
Really, everyone must have been saving themselves. Keeping from going hard on the river so that we could go hard around the campfire. We feasted, danced, sang. Blew shit up. Made as proper of a farewell as we could for someone we would all murder for. It will not be Dan’s last time on the river, it is not going to be my last fishing trip with him, but damn did we celebrate all the good times, past present and future.
