It's Good to Be Home

As you roll into Camp Sherman, the last thing most first-time visitors would expect to see is a Mexican/ Peruvian restaurant within walking distance of Oregon's Crown Jewel Spring Creek, the Metolius. The location offers an excuse for Jennifer and me to spend the night camping before fulfilling angling obligations the following day. Our donation of a hosted Metolius adventure complete with shore lunch has been a staple for the Deschutes River Alliance auction, and truth be told, one we enjoy.

After dinner at Hola!, daylight was fading fast, so we headed off to find a quiet camp for the night. Following the river, most forest service camps were closed for the season, with the Indigenous Peoples Holiday filling those that remained open. We passed the "Full" signs and headed up the dusty road, looking for a less "peopley" location to spend the night.

The untrod path leading into the timber looked promising, so we slipped Griz between the two pines, marking the primitive road to one of our favorite camp spots. On our previous visit, we were disappointed to find a large contingent of revelers oblivious to the view but enjoying the outdoors as they partied into the night. We successfully located another less boisterous camp on that occasion, so today, we had options. Yet, as we bounced over the ruts, we saw no signs of other campers and rolled into our camp in total silence, promising a peaceful night under the stars.

Our current Fly Fishing Adventure Vehicle takes seconds to set up, so I wasted little time getting our Ignik FireCan fired up to ward off the evening chill as we watched the stars emerge above Mt. Jefferson. Without cell services and other distractions, one must slow the pace and enjoy this place in time.

On our recent road trip, we developed a tradition of gourmet S'mores whenever we fired up the Ignik in the evening, and this night was no exception. Stroopwafels, Dark Chocolate with Sea Salt, and perfectly toasted marshmallows could become habit-forming, so self-control is required to avoid expanding the beltline. We finished our dessert treat, watched the stars until our eyes felt heavy, and then headed off to bed.

While most would call our camp setup glamping, since we sleep between flannel sheets beneath layers of Pendleton blankets, we call it something else. As I turned off the light, kissing my bride goodnight, she remarked, "It's good to be home." I fell asleep, still smiling in agreement. Yes, it's good to be home.

That feeling extended into the next day as we met our guests at the Camp Sherman store to prepare for our day of fishing. We agreed on a plan and then headed off to put that plan into action. Unfortunately, the trout were unaware of our plan, while October Caddis, misc. Mayflies and a myriad of other insects flitted about; the trout remained hidden in the crystal waters. Our guests remained optimistic, having experienced the fickle nature of the resident population.

Nevertheless, my eyes continued to search as we hiked the trail, enjoying the spectacular fall foliage and bright sunny weather. One pool caught my attention as a movement against a light background revealed a large Bull Trout holding in the swift current. Soon, I spotted another, then several more fish, all of impressive size, spread throughout the pool. We watched them, sharing the view with non-fishing hikers, explaining what these fish were and how special they are. We watched until our hunger sent us back down the trail to a shore lunch of Tomato bisque and paninis made with my homemade Sourdough.

While the sunshine may have somewhat hampered our angling success, the beautiful weather, incredible scenery, warm bellies, and new friendships born on this special river buoyed our optimism. As I drove south along the river, the sun fell low in the sky; I smiled and thought, "It's good to be home."