Posts Tagged ‘North Platte River’

In the two years I’ve lived next to the North Platte River, I have not gone fishing.

I’ve floated the river (three times). I’ve run past it at least twice a week. I’ve eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner on its banks. I camped next to it and watched friends fish at Miracle Mile.

But I hadn’t fished until Friday.

My dad and brother visited for the weekend and my dad booked a guided fly fishing trip in Alcova, about 20 miles southwest of Casper, for us. We fished from a boat, which was nice because we had lots of room to stow stuff and could sit down and lean back once we found a good seam. The best part: the guide would row us upriver to ride the seam over and over.

My brother had fly fished before, so I think he was disappointed with the seven rainbow trout he caught.

I caught 14.

One of the bigger ones I caught. (Aug. 12)

Not all were big, but wow, they were beautiful.

Last time I floated the North Platte with Carol, our floats stopped floating. The old-school innertubes deflated about an hour into the trip, and we ended up walking a mile through neighborhoods and on the bike path back to the car.

We made sure this time not to repeat our prior experience. We rented a raft. With oars.

The yacht seated 12 (we were 6) and included a cooler to hold beverages, snacks and dry clothes. The heavy-duty sides protected us the few times we bumped into cement bridge supports.

I got to row!

We floated about six miles down the river, which included the whitewater adventure park.

Rapids!

The last time I rowed anything was November 2003, before the fall crew season ended and the Genesee River froze over. I liked rowing but didn’t like how cliquey the team was. It was college — time to branch out and meet all sorts of people. And I joined the newspaper, which cut into 5:30 a.m. practice on the morning the paper came out. Although I stopped in between seasons, I still consider it the only commitment I’ve ever quit.

“Rowing” the  raft made me remember why I used to like it. Rowing is hard work that looks easy when it’s done well. I loved getting into a rhythm — slipping the blade in the water just enough, reaching forward and pulling with one clean swoop to glide across the water — and repeating it 2,000 meters at a time.

Last weekend’s outting can hardly be compared to competitive rowing, but it was a little reminder that it’s something I could return to someday.