Eagle Encounter

"Perhaps fishing is, for me, only an excuse to be

near rivers. If so, I'm glad I thought of it."

                                        - Roderick Haig-Brown

Early afternoon. A hot ninety-five degrees and humid. Typical summer water level - low. Tossed a rod in the boat and a small assortment of flies and accessories in the river bag. Usually reserve early morning or late afternoon thru evening for fishing the open river. Not bright, sunny midday. The primary objective was paddling. Our circuitous "river trail" route. Considering that we'd purchased our fishing license for the current season just a few days earlier, we figured that we'd hit up an en route and interesting looking, large rivers edge sandstone rock slab. If not decent fishing, at least a hangout spot as the flat surface of the sun baked boulder sported a one-shot natural log bench of driftwood sycamore. 

The facing riverfront was shoal (darn near wet rocks) and a bit swift. A merger of shallow runs and micro pockets. Not our favorite angling waters. Gonna' be nothing but slack, short drifts. Seldom fished conditions for us. Repetitive, constant motion. But more work equals more fun we figure. 

Although we knew better, first cast we let a small minnow streamer long drift to straight line and snag in the fissured rock river bottom. We switched to one of three wet flies we carried and similarly lost that and the one to follow before getting our act together. The next solid three-quarter hour of repetitious casting went by quick. Time flies when you're having fun. But we knew that we were merely dawdling in the hot sun. 

Opposite shore line, maybe a football field length distance, we spot a soaring raptor rapidly making his way down river, skirting the tree tops. As we spot him he apparently spots us. He makes an abrupt ninety degree turn and is now flying directly toward our position. Can't quite make 'em out. Appears to be a hawk. He's pretty dark in plumage. Looks to be a lot bigger. Possible Osprey. As quick as we can clear another thought he's coming in fast and low. Practically water level. And directly toward us. We're ready to duck cover. About head level and twenty feet out he makes an aerobatic sixty degree roll back to river north and we get an excellent view of 'em. Wings full splay. At least six foot tip-to-tip. Almost slow motion in his control. Poetry in motion as they say. Could have probably counted the tail feathers. It's a juvenile bald eagle. And gripped in his talons he's carrying an aerodynamic aligned mid-afternoon lunch of golden rainbow trout (aka palomino trout). Pretty good size, too. We know that in the recent stocking the palominos were all on the order of a girthy ten inches plus. At closest range we probably could have reached out and tapped 'em with the tip of our eight foot six inch five weight. Totally silent in his glide until his flapping acceleration once past and return to his downstream heading.

(Internet Image)

Bald Eagle plumage

That's exactly our close range perspective of his soaring turn, with palomino in talon

(Internet Image)

Golden Rainbow Trout (aka Palomino Trout)

We're pretty definite that the young eagle was attracted to our yellow colored OC1. Probably thought that he was locked on to a whale of a palomino. Or, considering the coverage of the whitewash on the rock, maybe we were intruding upon his dinner table. We're stickin' with the former.

Neo-Sisyphus

 

(S. Zagorce Image)

Trial run of the canoe cart. 

Don't be fooled by the gentle appearing upgrade as depicted in the image.

Two miles over a bit rugged terrain was a persistent tug. Midway becoming a slog. Any further beyond our destination we imagine a full blown tug-of-war. Given a fairly level track supporting a paved and compacted crushed gravel surface, such as a hike-bike trail, we could have run the distance. We opted for our standard, unimproved, combination side-hill cut mountain trail and heavy-ballasted railroad grade. Rocks, ruts, mud, puddles, mud puddles, fly ash, bottom ash, slag, crushed small gravel, medium gravel, large gravel... and more gravel. Outside temps in the mid 90's. Potential for hidden, snapping vipers. Minus any serious grade (other than a short steep downhill of several hundred feet) we'll give it a 3 out of 5 on the difficulty scale (at said distance), so it could have been worse. To be honest, given a following day of a bit of rest and recovery, and we're ready to go again.

And we had an end to our toil

Titian's 1548-1549 Renaissance masterpiece as re-imagined thru the wonder of Photoshop by our modern, resident classical master, the mononymous "vonRay". 

Sisyphus' tale is actually pretty good...

(YouTube Video)

Some decent AI - although, we see opportunity for some great stop motion animation.

(We'd like to get a pair of Zeus' electric shades at 4:40)

Shredding

 "Ya' been out on the river?"

Standard greeting that we first heard probably forty+ years ago when we bumped into a fella' in the local hardware store. He apparently recognized us right off the bat. Waved and made his way right over to say hello. Bit of a smaller guy. Impish looking. Friendly as heck. Problem was, we had no recollection of the man. In between casual bantering centered upon the lower Yough river and the current weather and river conditions, we're rackin' our brain trying to place 'em. He was such an amiable fellow and came across as an old friend that we hesitated to ask his name. This scenario played out multiple times throughout the years to follow, either in the hardware or local grocery store. We talked the river a lot with 'em but never once asked his name. He always wore a ball cap embroidered with the logo of a local Ohiopyle rafting outfitter. Once he sported a cap emblazoned with the Mountain River Boat Works logo, at the time a small paddling shop we'd visited out of Scenery Hill, PA (as we recall). Another clue but still no recollect. 

A few years back we came across an on-line obituary and memorial concerning the passing of the inventor of the now legendary Shredder inflatable river boats; 100% manufactured right here in the USA in SWPA along the Yough river in Ohiopyle. We take a look at the photo accompanying the article of the late inventor himself, Tom Love. 

Damned if it ain't our baffling buddy...

(Internet Image/Airtight Inflatables)

Wayback image of Love river testing an early Shredder

We never got around to it, and know several paddlers who own 'em, but unfortunately have never paddled a Shredder. It grieves us to say being settled right here locally.

Coincidentally we'd spoken to him once over the phone years back when trying to track down a few replacement inflatable thwart tubes for an old Campways/Riken river raft. We'd been given his number by Campways out in Los Angeles, CA. Shortly thereafter we blew out a seamed three foot section of the hull of the boat, so wound up not needing the tubes. Still had not (knowingly) ever met him in person.

This year marks the 40th anniversary of Love's brilliant river boat.