As I've gone over before, winter is fast approaching the small alpine village of Government Camp and the wilderness that surrounds it. I could talk some more about what exactly the word "winter" entails, but I've done it throughout this blog to an exhausting degree and think it would be best to give it a rest. However, it is worth noting that numerous preparations need to be made in the fall in order to be properly prepared for winter. The cabin needs to be cleaned and stripped down. The water needs to get shut off so it doesn't freeze inside the pipes and cause a complete plumbing disaster. The insulation system needs to be checked and replaced if necessary (it's getting harder and harder to find good quality asbestos these days). And most sadly of all, the summertime fishing equipment needs to get stored away for the long winter. However, I was able to sneak away for one last Trillium Lake fishing trip. This lake is the shortest distance away from the cabin, and spending a few hours fishing is a relaxing respite from the irritating chores taking place at the home.
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| The beauty wears off when you have to see it on hundreds of postcards, calendars, and novelty condoms. |
Although this average-sized lake has a tendency to become extremely crowded, the only other people on the lake were other fishermen. Most of them were in small kayaks or float tubes, and as I launched my canoe I was immediately blasted by a powerful gust of wind that shoved me back ashore. Wind is always an annoyance to fishermen with boats, but canoers get the worst of it. The same wind that smoothly propels a sailboat or passes harmlessly over a kayak will blow a canoe completely across the lake and back again, despite the futile struggles of whoever may be inside it. I found it extremely difficult to paddle, let alone fish, as the howling gale repeatedly and forcefully blew me into the lily pads, the shoreline reeds, the fishing dock, kayakers, etc. Somehow, I still managed to catch a couple fish. There's plenty of trout in this lake during the fall, and they respond well to most techniques.
At this point in my blogging career, I've pretty much said all there is to say about Trillium Lake. In case any of you are new readers, then I'll sum everything up in the next few sentences and save you a lot of trouble in the future. 1. ) Trillium Lake is shallow and weedy. 2.) It gets crowded. 3.) The trout are usually eight to twelve inches. 4.) You can fish for them however you want. 5.) I usually use Wedding Rings. 6.) Troll close to the shoreline. 7.) Not too close or else you'll snag on weeds. 8.) The previous step should have gone without saying, but I manage to do it every time I go there. 8.) If you ever go there and see a teenager in a maroon canoe unsnagging his wedding ring from the weeds, say hi! Just don't mention my blog.
Writing this blog is a serious emotional commitment. The two or three people who have accidentally clicked on and seen this can attest to the effort I put in every time I post. Having to think of a different philosophical musing on a slimy, flopping fish every time I catch one is getting more and more difficult over the years, and I've tried different approaches to writing about the fish of the Mt. Hood area. There's been the Hemingway approach, where I battle a monstrous trout that ends up getting eaten by a ravenous pack of bloodthirsty otters on the way back to shore. There's the James Joyce approach, where I close my eyes and type random words on the keyboard for the time it takes my bagel to finish toasting. And there's the approach I'm currently involved in now, where I stall by writing meaningless garbage to fill space and create the illusion that I actually have something to talk about. Oh, this used to be such a great blog.
Until the next muse hits me like a truck filled with bricks,
Kamran Walsh
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