Unfinished Business: Hells Canyon

As the bow of the sled pushed on to the riverbank, I was beginning to wonder what exactly I had gotten myself into here. It had been months since I had ascended any considerable incline; and even those weren't littered with loose slides of basalt. River bottoms and finned game had consumed me. I had been scoping the riverside bluffs for some time, and while I had always realized the magnitude, never had I come to know it first-hand.

Nearing halfway on the initial climb was the first flush of birds. With the sun directly in my eyes, I had just enough visual on the birds to shoulder my gun and rapidly squeeze off both barrels. No birds fell, which is about what I expected. I watched them coast to the next ridge and touchdown, mentally logging their location for the decent. Seconds later, three shots rang through the canyon from the next draw followed by an unmistakable "CHUUUUKAARRR!"

Dang.

Left sucking for air and temporarily blinded by the sun, I was empty handed on one of the countless ridges in Hells Canyon. Jealousy ensued; a familiar jealousy. I was getting my first taste of the Devil's bird.

We made a final push up the last 300 feet and rounded out the day on top the ridge, taking in the vistas and breezes of a sunny January day. On the descent, we had more solid points, flushed birds, and opportunities. However, as the afternoon progressed, my hope began to fade. My shotgun began to outweigh my desire and the window was closing.

As we descended, the familiar jealousy intensified. I was boarding the plane in Belize without the Permit. I was pulling off my waders, continuing the search for my first steelhead. Maybe it's my competitive nature or maybe I'm just overzealous. Whatever it is, I'm hooked. I'm an addict that just found a new drug. It just so happens my drug tastes like chicken and supplies my tying material stock.

Whether I'm watching a permit dart from the boat, checking your fly after it unbuttoned on a steelhead, or hopelessly reloading as a covey of chukar coasts down the canyon, I am learning how to be grateful for opportunity, regardless of the outcome.

Cheers to unfinished business. There are worse things to keep you awake at night.