Seasonal Rites and the March of Time
This week’s column is submitted by SeaDeVar Gleed. The judges selected this one and at least one more from entries to my outdoor adventure writing contest. DeVar will receive passes to the upcoming Central Washington Sportsmen Show in Yakima. (By the way, you still have a few days to send your story to me…)
DeVar’s story is really a tale that touches each of us – or will be at some point in life. This is how he tells it:
“One of the constants in this life is change.
“My favorite rite of passage into fall was me and dad’s annual trip to Star Valley, Wyoming. We hunted big browns cruising up out of Palisades Reservoir to spawn in the clear, cool Star Valley streams at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. There’s something special about fishing a meandering stream at 6,200’ elevation in late fall. We typically had the river to ourselves. The trip to Star Valley from northern Utah takes us back and forth through Idaho, Utah, and Wyoming. Elk camps with horse trailers were a common scene as we neared Afton, home of the world’s largest elk horn arch. We typically had the river to ourselves as hardy locals sought a much bigger quarry. Dad is a cutthroat trout whisperer. While I love pitching Rapalas seeking big brown bruisers, he always seemed to find a deep bend holding beautiful, Snake River fine-spotted cutthroat willing to take the half worm he threaded on his hook. I’d try to convince him to go down the river with me but he seemed content to ply his trade in a deep bend, fitting a nap or two in between hits.
“I knew the day would come when our adventures would end. Nothing goes on forever. Each year, I would convince my wife that the expense was worth it. ‘You never know when dad will be gone’ I would say. I really didn’t need to convince her – she’s never stood in the way of me and my fish
DeVar’s Dad on the Salt River
ing rod (as long as it didn’t interfere with more important things in life – of which there are few). I never imagined it would be mom who came closest to death and would change the course of my rite of passage into fall.
“She’s a strong woman. She survived open heart surgery at age 31 and proceeded to bear her 5th and 6th children here in Paradise. 44 years later scar tissue from that open heart surgery would save her life, staving off blood flow from an upper-aortic aneurysm, allowing her time to get life-saving treatment. Her ginger steps back home four months later were nothing short of a miracle.
“I’ll never forget our August 2016 visit. ‘Well dad, have you been thinking about Star Valley at all,’ I asked? He went into pensive thought. A faint smile came as he remembered the deep memories we made at each bend of the Salt River, and the evening chats at the old homestead talking up our fishing prowess. We developed a strong bond during those times – one that will not soon be broken. With his next words, I knew the end of this fall rite of passage had arrived. ‘Son, I’ll never leave your mother’s side.’ I could see it in his eyes – that moment when one realizes how fleeting this mortal life is.
Nicholas and DeVar on the Columbia
“But with each inevitable end, there is always a new beginning.
Nicholas and Andrew with a Columbia River king
My son Nicholas and I began a new rite of fall passage – one much closer to home. The powerful upper-Columbia River king salmon migrate from the treacherous Pacific Ocean, past the multiple dams along this mighty river, to spawn and end their lives where it all began. Son Nicholas and I started catching these wonderful fish from the banks near Wanapum Dam right here in Kittitas County. There are not many things that rank up there with netting a 15-pound king salmon yanking at the end of my son’s fishing rod!
“Those half hour drives home along old Kittitas Highway, with Mt. Rainier in the distance and tales of the one that got away, are creating new memories and bonds that will strengthen with time. (By the way, the milkshakes and fries at Blustery’s in Vantage are still awesome!)”
DeVar Gleed
