Book means winter is here

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

I never should have picked up the book. Picking up the book is like giving in to the winter, but I picked it up anyway. Then I picked up the pen and started making my list -- another sign that winter is fast approaching.

The book in question was written by John Gierach, one of the leading fly fishing authors in the world. Sitting at my desk chair, I leafed through the pages of the recently purchased book, skimming chapters of his funny writing.

While I love John Gierach and his humorous style, I hate reading his books -- because I vow only to do so during the winter, as a way to pass the time until spring. If I'm enjoying one of his books, it usually means there is snow on the ground and my fly rod is back in the closet, much to my dismay.

The list is my annual "order" of flies I'll need next year. Usually around the middle of October, on what is likely going to be one of the last trips of the year, I make a mental inventory of what flies I used and what flies I didn't. Then, when winter gets here, I write my list down and start tying for another six months.

This winter, the list also includes two rods I want to build, because after taking a rod building class last winter, I'm convinced I need one for every day of the week.

I was ready for neither the book or the list this year. Summer was just too good to me.

Earlier this week, I was talking to one of my best friends and fishing buddies from Anchorage.

Over a couple of pale ales, we reminisced about the summer and how we spent a good portion of it on the water.

"Can you believe we camped and fished nine weekends in a row at one point?" I asked him about one streak of the summer. "Uh, yeah. You're the one with the wife and daughter. I'm single. I could have done it for four months in a row," he said.

There was the time we took off after work on Friday, drove like crazy down to the Kenai Peninsula and slept in the truck as rain pounded the roof on the Kenai River. It was colder than I ever could have imagined, but the reds were in, and it was the place to be, no matter how miserable the weekend felt. At the time, I couldn't wait to get home. Now, I can't wait to do it again.

There was a streamside meeting with a grizzly bear, an early spring trip up the Talkeetna River and a wonderful fall float of Willow Creek. A rainy trip north to Hurricane, a wet trip down Little Willow and numerous late-night jaunts to local lakes were also part of the summer's mix.

In all, there was time spent on at least 10 different streams from Kenai to Cantwell -- not including the many trips to lakes -- and each trip will be fresh in my memory until next spring, when it's time to bust out the rod and get going again.

"Remember the Talkeetna king salmon trip over the Fourth of July?" I asked him rhetorically.

That weekend, about 10 of us made the trip up the highway to Talkeetna to get into some late-season kings. After setting up the camp, we opened the coolers and sat around the fire.

Before anyone realized what was happening, it was 4:30 a.m. and we were helping shut down the Fairview Inn.

We ended up sleeping until noon, and after waking up, broke camp and came home -- all while our rods never made it out of our trucks.

The moral of the story is a simple one -- sometimes, you don't even have to fish to have a memorable fishing trip.

Fly fishing is my hobby, and I try to cram as much into the summer as I can. Other people who are into gardening, golf or any other summertime hobby can relate, even if they have never held a fly rod in their hand. It's a short season, and you have to be ready to commit everything to the summer.

Now, as I leaf through rod catalogs, others may be looking through golf magazines or seed catalogs, left wondering what happened to the summer. The snow isn't here yet, but it may as well be.

At least there's John Gierach to get me through.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He is shooting for 10 weekends in a row next summer.