For the past month I've been living down in Bend, Oregon with the family and last week my dad and his friend took all the daughters (and son) on a little fishing trip.
I have to say I think I'm pretty damn good at fishing.
We drove up towards Bachelor Mountain (which is technically a butte in case you didn't know!) and pulled off at a little spot on the Upper Deschutes, which is part of the Deschutes River, one of the big rivers that flows through Central Oregon (others include the Mackenzie and the Umpqua). As we were driving up the mountain it was so beautiful I stuck my little plastic Holga out the sunroof and snapped the first shot. The thing I love about Holgas is the way they capture color-so saturated and dreamy. In the past few years plastic cameras have become very hipster (a term I don't care to be associated with, which, many people will say makes me even more hipster but I'm really NOT hipster and I don't know how else to say it...) so I have held back on using mine, but I'm a sucker for vintage-esque photos so I caved and brought it down instead of the Nikon. Plus, I think film and the romantic quality the camera gives each shot adds another layer of nostalgia to the series. It's like looking in on a special moment in time, but it's different than looking at photographs taken with with digital cameras. Not that I don't love and appreciate digital cameras-you can do so much more with digital, not-to-mention cut prices by at least half (I got four rolls of 120mm film developed and it cost me $65, a pretty steep price for something you have no idea will turn out or not). But, I have a job now, so I decided to spend a little extra money on my photographic endeavors this summer and go film for a change. I remember I used to be so against digital. The only reason I did end up going digital is because of the Peru trip. Then of course I realized how silly I was being and made the switch for good. It it nice to use film every now and again though.
Anyways, here I am taking a massive tangent on cameras. Back to the fishing trip.
So we get to the river and the dads suit up in the works-waders, giant fanny-pack type things with boxes of flies, and Jungle Juice and all kinds of goos and powders that make the flies float (and snacks of course) and all the kids are in shorts and t-shirts lookin like noobs. So we get out onto the river and I immediately jump in and wade out to the middle which in turn washes off all the bug juice I've put all over myself, and I get eaten alive by the skeeters (as my 7 year old cousin calls calls them). I don't notice though because I'm trying to figure out how to cast the line correctly. In fact the first fish I caught, was behind me because I cast incorrectly and the line landed upstream.
Needless to say when I went to cast, the fish I'd hooked hit me square in the face.
After that though, it got much better and I went on to catch five (count em' five!) baby Rainbow Trout (not actual babies, but very small ones).
Other memorable moments in the day?
Losing a bottle of Pepsi out of my backpack and mistaking it for a really big fish jumping just behind me.
My dad, running downstream to catch said bottle of Pepsi in desperate need of a refreshing beverage.
Sophie catching her first fish and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Sophie catching her second fish and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Sophie naming her two fish Rolfe and Jeremiah.
All in all it was a pretty great day. Can't wait to go again this week.
Photo Notes.
1. The drive up.
2. Deschutes River Sign.
3. The bridge for cars to cross the river.
4. Deschutes National Forest.
5. A pro at work. (Dad)
6. My first (and second!) fish.
7. Teva-tanned feet.
8. Upper Deschutes River.
Here's to your first fish: may it slap you in the face.
-Lo
