His breath was cool and thick in the early morning air. It was still dark and overcast, but light gently made its way through the thin grey clouds, promising sunshine and warmth in the day to come. Calipooya and the Umpqua Flycatcher eased the boat down the grassy shore into the spirited water of the river. Cal held the boat while Ump climbed aboard, then shoved them off, and hopped in behind him. It was just an old wooden flat-bottom boat that they had traded a gelding mule for, but it was nice for floating water above the shallow rock bottom of the river. The boat moved toward the center of the river and gathered some speed as Cal and Ump floated quietly along in it. The cold air seemed to know just were their buskins left their skin exposed. Cal could see Ump squirm, readjusting to better cover his naked flesh. Cal pulled his shirt down in the back to stifle a draft he felt, and then picked up the oars, directing the boat towards a pocket in the river where a rock shelf created a natural hole for the fish to gather in. Cal moved the boat to the edge of the current, and tossed out the iron anchor. What the anchor lacked in size it made up for in weight. Cal let the rope out slowly until the boat nestled itself in the still water between the river current and the backwash of the eddy. The anchor caught and cal tied it off.
“Boy, its cold this morning.” Ump said, “You sure you don’t want come back after my mornin’ nap?”
“Doubt the cold will break up your mornin’ nap.” Cal replied, “’sides it’ll be warm soon enough.” Cal pulled the oars in and rustled through the bottom of the boat for his fishing pole. It was a bit cold, Cal thought, but where else would he want to be. The sound of the running water, the birds announcing the coming of the dawn, and beauty of the Oregon wilderness, it was all Cal had ever dreamed of.
The two men baited their hooks and tossed them over, letting the current carry the spinning sardines just over the edge of the rock shelf. They had been staying in the small town of Ten Mile. There wasn’t much there but a general store and a post office, but last night they had camped not far from the river near Tyee, so they could get an early start. Tyee had even less than Ten mile, just a log trading post. Mostly trappers and fishermen journeyed through, and that’s what Cal liked about it, the solitude. The night had been still and quiet, and the fire had kept them warm. Cal could tell that Ump missed the warmth of the fire. Ump was at least 80, and the years had made his skin grow thin. The cold bothered him more than it used to. Cal reached into his bag and retrieved some dried venison. Tearing a piece off he offered it to Ump, “Here, this’ll help.” He said with a sly grin.
“Boy yeah,” Ump said snatching the meat from Cal. He tore off a piece in his teeth and began savoring every chew. Ump loved to eat, second only to taking his naps. That is how he had gotten his name. Many people had seen ump sound asleep on the boat, mouth wide, as though he was trying to catch flies. And so the legend of the Umpqua Flycatcher was born. “That’s pretty good, we got anything to drink with it?”
“Sure,” Cal said. While Ump was focused on his breakfast, Cal reached over the side of the boat and gathered a handful of water. He brought it up behind Ump and let the snow melt water run down the back of Ump’s neck.
“Oooh,” Ump squealed as he jumped up rocking the boat, and almost ending up floating along with the bait. “Dad dummit Cal, that’s cold.”
Cal grinned, “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He let out a few chuckles as Ump steadied himself and sat back down in the boat.
“Whew, that’ll wake ya up and get yer eyes open.” Ump sighed as he tried to shake away the chill the icy water had brought.
“Don’t worry it’ll pass and you’ll be catchin’ flies in no time.” Both men smiled and went back to the dried meat and watching their poles. The tips bounced softly as the current tugged against the bait spinning at the end of the line. Both men enjoyed the quiet spring morning, and watched as the sun began to peek through the misty breaking clouds. Soon the wind would switch and the warmth of the day would weigh heavy on both of their eyes.
The geese were stirring, their honks echoed through the winding mountains as they flew in and landed on the banks. Cal could just make out the first of the hatchlings learning their way through this remote wilderness. Sticking close to their parents the trudged through the tall grass, searching for some movement that would bring a meal.
Cal though about the trip along the Oregon Trail that had brought them to this untouched land. The trip had been hard and long, but worth every step. “Most things worth doing are hard to do,” he thought, “that’s how you learn to appreciate them.” He was glad though that he had had Ump with him. Ump had a way of making everything seem as though it would be okay. Even in he was an ornery cuss sometimes. Cal had learned all his ornery tricks from Ump, and now that he was older he enjoyed paying him back for the years of teasing when Cal was young. Cal couldn’t count the times that Ump had said they were lost, as they traversed the great mountains of the Rockies. Cal hated to be lost, and Ump used to torment him so. Now Cal didn’t mind so much and could always find a way to return the favor.
Cal looked to Ump. His eyes blinked slower each time they closed. His jaw began to pull at his lips, trying desperately to pull them apart. Cal reached over and squeezed Umps leg just above the knee.
“Durn you!” Ump shouted, rocking the boat again.
“Sorry, were ya asleep?” Cal asked.
“No, I was concentratin’.” Ump replied looking to the tip of his pole.
“That was some real tough concentratin’.” And Cal erupted into laughter.
Ump just smiled and grabbed another piece of venison.
“You want somethin’ to drink with that?” Cal smiled.
“No thanks.” Ump said as he tilted his head back to close the gap between his shirt and neck. “I’ve had plenty.”
Cal chuckled and went back to watching his pole dance along as though there
was a fiddle playing its favorite song. Soon Ump’s eyes were doing the same. Each time he blinked his eyes stayed closed just a little longer until they were to heavy to open. The Flycatcher was once again prowling the banks of the Umpqua River. Cal decided to let him rest a while. There would be plenty of time to mess with him today. Cal scanned the skies searching for an eagle or osprey to watch. They were better at fishing than Cal and Ump, and it was just as exciting to watch them land one.
In the distance Cal could see a small speck floating on the air. Would it be an osprey, or just a vulture scavenging for a meal? The bird grew in size as it grew near the small flat-bottom boat, and Cal could see the white head and chest. “An osprey,” Cal mumble to himself. He watched as it soared high above the water in lazy circles, its head twitching back and forth, scanning for its prey. Cal hoped it would have some luck. Suddenly, it began to push its wings forward causing its motion to stall. The osprey hovered in mid air more than a hundred feet off the water. Cal knew it wouldn’t be long. “How could it see the fish from that high,” he wondered, “I can’t see them from the boat most of the time.” In an instant the hovering bird shifted to its right and folded up its wings. Down it went, quickly picking up speed. The water exploded, and a loud crack like that of a .50 cal Hawkin’s echoed off the surface of the river. Once again Ump jumped, rocking the boat.
“What the?” Ump stopped as he looked around. He could see Cal laughing quietly at him.
Cal pointed down river to the spot where the bird had disappeared below the icy water. Out came the osprey carrying a small Chinook. The fish probably wasn’t more than 7 pounds but it was about all the bird could carry. As the osprey cleared the surface, it shook its head and body, sending the water clinging to its feathers spraying in all directions. It reminded Cal of a dog getting out of a pond, only the osprey never missed a beat of his wings. Both men watched as the bird got his prey to a large rock jutting out from the shore. The osprey proceeded to tear at the Chinook with its sharp beak, until it was free of the weight of its head. Off the bird flew, down river once again. Cal figured it had a nest not far, and possible little ones to feed. It would return to fish again.
“You’re missin’ it Ump.” Cal said shaking his head.
“I seen it afore,” Ump said with a smile, “but now I got use the outhouse.”
“Scared ya that bad huh?”
“No, nature just likes people with age, the older ya get the more often it calls.” Ump’s grin caused Cal to smile. Ump made his way over to the edge of the boat to relieve himself.
Cal couldn’t help but shake the boat causing Ump to let go and grab the edge.
“Dad dumb you,” ump hollered. “I got enough trouble goin’ with out yer help.”
“Sorry we must have swayed into the current.” Cal said as his face tried to play dumb.
“I’ll show ya where the current is if’n you keep that up.” Ump’s face tried to grimace, but seeing the bearded smile on Cal caused him to turn away before he smiled too.
Ump made his way back to his seat and the two began to reminisce on old stories and tales they had made along the way. Sometimes the stories were the same, and sometimes they found new details that made telling, and hearing, them better. It wasn’t long until more than half the day was gone and the two were feeling hungry again. They had traded for some smoked fish the night before at the Tyee Trading Post, and now seemed a good time for it. They pulled out the waxed paper that contained the meal, and began dividing it up. The meat was tender and sweet. It just seemed to dissolve in their mouths, the way bread does when its soggy. The sweetness reminded Cal of some Rock candy he once had back in Tulsa, before they had made the trek out west.
“That’s alright, ya know.” Ump said without taking his eyes off the pink meat. Well worth the coon skin trade.”
“Well if’n we can catch anything, we’ll make our own.” Cal said as he licked his fingers clean.
Suddenly Cal’s pole jerked down towards the water. Cal jumped up towards the back of the boat, and his line began to pull out. The spool hummed and the fish took line. Cal kept the line taught as Ump reeled his line in and unhooked the anchor from the boat. Ump tossed the buckskin float into the water that was tied to the anchor. Off the boat went down the river. Ump steered with the oars as Cal worked the pole firmly, gaining slowly on the fish. Ump was trying to get them into a still pool on the west side of the bank were Cal could work the fish out of the current. The fish changed course and came toward the boat. Cal reeled in fast to keep the line tight. Under the boat went the fish. Cal held the pole out to keep the line from rubbing on the bottom of the boat. As he leaned over the side, the boat clipped a rock sticking slightly out of the water and Cal lurched over the side.
“Calipooya!” Ump cried and reached for Cal catching his feet before he disappeared beneath the surface. Cal’s legs kicked and the fishing pole swung wildly beside Ump’s head. Ump could see that Cal’s head was under water. He grabbed the pole fro Cal and tossed his feet over the side.
Cal’s head and arms appeared almost instantly as his legs kicked off the bottom. Ump didn’t even see how he got back in the boat, but there he was. Ump handed him back the pole and Cal renewed his fight with the fish. He was shaking from the cold of the water but could already fell the warmth of the sun fighting in his defense. It didn’t seem to matter much right now; all that mattered was landing his fish. He pulled the pole up and then reeled as he let it down. Over and over he repeated it. His muscles grew tired from the combination of the fight and the cold water stealing their warmth.
“Easy Cal,” Ump coached as he got the net ready, “Just get him along side the boat.”
Cal pulled the pole up once more and the Chinook relinquished his resistance. It floated to the surface beside the boat. Ump scooped it out of the river and into the boat.
Cal dropped down into the boat and let out a victorious sigh. “What a fight.” He said through chattering teeth.
“You should have seen yer face when you came up out of that water,” Ump laughed, “looked like you just sat on a rattlesnake, you did.” Ump’s laugh echoed down the winding river.
“How ‘bout I help you over the side?” Cal replied, a serious look held tight on his face, “That water’s cold!”
“I’m good right here.” Ump said still laughing, “Sorry about the rock, I didn’t see it there.”
The sly grin told Cal all he needed to know, Ump had won this one. “You wait, Ump. You’ll catch a fish soon enough.”
“Not me,” Ump said with as innocent a face as he could muster. “We better get you back to camp and by the fire. Besides we got a fish to smoke.”
Cal looked at the fish. It was a good one, fifty pounds or more. There would be enough meat for them, and some to trade. Cal looked back to ump and smiled, “Alright, there’ll be plenty of time for you to catch one tomorrow.”
The two men rowed to boat back up to the float and hauled in the anchor. After hauling the boat out of the river and draining the water left by Cal they carried it and their gear back to camp. Ump got started on the fire while Cal removed his wet clothes. The sun felt good on Cal’s skin, but he was still cold. “Hurry up with that fire Ump,” Cal said as he tried to peel off his wet pants. “I am freezin’.”
“Boy I hate that,” Ump said as he slowed his movements down.
The wet pants cut through the air, wrapping themselves around Umps head. He let out a breath-stolen holler and jumped up, trying to unravel himself from the freezing skins. “I bet you hate it,” Cal smirked, seeing his aim had been true.
“Whoa, that’s cold,” Ump said and began working feverishly to get the fire going.
“You think I was kiddin’?” Cal asked.
“No, but it wasn’t botherin’ me when they were on you.” Both men began to laugh and work to get the fire going.
Soon the fire was burning, Cal and ump were felling better, and the smell of smoked fish covered the area around their camp. This was the life they had sought. Simple, quiet, free, together, what more could they want. Calipooya and the Umpqua Flycatcher sat, pulling smoked fish off the fire recounting the days adventure. Laughing and warming themselves by the fire in the late afternoon they enjoyed good food and good company. It would be night soon, and tomorrow would be a new day
By Ben Blevins Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved
1 comment:
great story ben!! I can picture the two of you!
Post a Comment