Healing Body and Soul

Birthdays slip by faster as they stack up on the corner of my desk, piled in with plans, projects, hopes, and dreams I’ve gathered over those many years. I can only hope that the occasional storm doesn’t burst open a window and carry them away on the wind, erasing the good intentions I faced each day with, pulling the last calendar page from the wall, leaving only shadows in the dust.

 

Our return to Argentina this past February to chase Trout in Patagonia held a special meaning for both Jennifer and me. It would not only be a celebration of my sixtyninth birthday but also of survival, both physical and mental. A goal set months before, when the outcome was well in doubt. To step off the airplane in San Martín and feel the warmth of summer in February confirmed that indeed, we had survived. At the time, we felt relief and a peace that is hard to put into words. Later that day, when we stepped into the Collon Cura for the first time, the tears that flowed were more than tears of happiness; they flowed directly from our hearts and joined the river that pulled us through those tough days before and after my surgery. We held each other close and whispered, “We made it.”

 

Our guide, Tommy, pushed into the flow, and we picked up our fly rods, pushing away months of cloudy days, reveling in the sunshine of success. Before long, Jennifer was fast into a scrappy Rainbow, completing our return.

 

Argentina had been suffering a severe drought up until a few weeks before our arrival, when an unusual weather pattern brought heavy rain and temperatures twenty degrees cooler than normal. While this caused muddy water issues for several weeks on the Collon Cura when a slide dropped tons of clay into the river, by the time we touched down in San Martín, the water was clearing and much cooler than it had been, making the Trout very happy. Still, this normally crystal clear river looked amazingly like a perfect Steelhead stream, with just a touch of green to make the fish comfortable, and the fish didn’t seem to mind at all.

 

We started off dead drifting big foamy flies, then mixing it up with the twitchy-twitchy that I’ve covered before. Plump Rainbows and Browns grabbed with splashy takes, and slowly, memories of the summer past slipped away completely as we focused on our casts and watched our flies skitter on the surface, pulling fish up from the depths of the clearing river.

 

With each day on the water, the fact that I still carried cancerous tumors in my lungs took a back seat to soaking in the sunshine, catching a few fish, and celebrating each day. If I am to be honest, a few days went by, and cancer never crossed my mind. I felt strong and rejuvenated from my time on the water.

After three days on the Collon Cura, we moved over to the Rio Limay, a river that will always be remembered for its power, crystal clear water, and aggressive big fish. This is the river I had focused on while looking out of my hospital window at OHSU.

 

As Tommy launched the boat and loaded the gear, Jennifer and I found ourselves once again in a crushing embrace, tears flowing down our cheeks and into the smiles on our faces. We had truly made it.

We slipped across a shallow channel, and Tommy dropped the anchor at the point where the braid rejoined the main river. I expected to be tying on a big, foamy creation, but instead, Tommy pulled a size 14 Purple Haze parachute from his box and added 4x tippet to my leader. By now, fish could be seen rising in the current seam as I presented the fly to the closest riser. A nose came up, and the fly disappeared, as a fat Rainbow pulled hard using the current to his advantage. Despite his efforts, the fish was soon brought to hand and released, my focus already on another fish slightly farther out in the flow. A cast, a rise, and a blistering run had me deep into my backing before the fish leaped high into the air, his silvery scales blinding in the Patagonia sun. In time, the battle ended with the fish returning safely to his domain, and we continued down the river, working the water with optimism and a renewed spirit from these legendary waters.

 

Over the years, February 18th has found me most often with a fly rod in hand somewhere in the world. While one does not need to go fishing to celebrate a birthday, if it is an option, it remains a wise choice. As the years progress, I have found my preference to be somewhere warm, as the chilly Steelhead waters closer to home tend to make old bones ache and stiffen my fingers. The tropics were the obvious destination, but our introduction to Argentina was so incredible that I find it hard to look elsewhere as I plan the next celebration. My day was highlighted by three beautiful big fish, and an uncountable number of others, then topped off with the most amazing chocolate cake I have ever sampled. The kitchen staff at the Limay River Ranch topped the bar set the previous year, making our return a requirement, if for no other reason, but to see what they come up with next year.

 

It is well known that water has healing powers. Those of us who are passionate about fishing feel that power every time we step into a stream. Our bodies respond, and the tonic that flows around us heals the wounds that brought us to this place. In the months leading up to this trip, fatigue had been a constant struggle, my body working to heal from my surgery, required rest at times, and was very vocal in telling me this. Naps seemed a waste of time when other projects could be completed, but I learned they were important to the overall healing process. By adding a favorite fishing adventure, filled with fresh air, exercise, good food, incredible company, and big, powerful fish to cast a fly at, cancer has no chance at getting the best of me.