When your fly fishing trip is bookended by some travel – especially a long drive – you typically don’t want your travel to become part of the “adventure.”

When you’re in the midst of it, “boring” seems fine. Hell, boring is good.

Oregon roads

This bad cellphone pic suggests what Oregon looks like at 55 mph

If all you struggle with is whether the footlong meatball sandwich you had for lunch was really the best choice you could make (given the paucity of bathrooms), then frankly, you’ve done OK.

Now go fly fishing.

Oregon: The “Show Me, Slowly” State

In the interest of providing constructive criticism to our political leaders, I’m adding this to my post: The drag through Oregon is always painful – and not because Oregon is unpretty.

It’s because the state – apparently bent on bringing statewide commerce to a crawl (or simply boring tourists to tears, ensuring they don’t move there) – slaps a 55 mph speed limit on even straight, wide, open roads.

As [name redacted] noted, Oregon (Official Motto: “You’ll Get There… Eventually“) is the part of the drive where simply not being cited for speeding is an achievement worthy of a little celebration (but for chrissakes, don’t creep up to 60 while cheering).

I made it through Oregon without even a hint of a ticket (surviving three separate speed traps, including a diabolical one situated on the first blind spot after the CA/Oregon state line), but realized I was getting a bit punchy by the time I reached Montana, where at night, the off ramps started to look like the freeway.

You drive along thinking everything’s OK, then find yourself in the wrong lane twice in five minutes, and realize your brain is largely fried.

The good news? You’re only a half-hour from the finish.

Oddly, once I arrived I couldn’t fall asleep; every time I drifted off, I’d jerk back to wakefulness, the reptilian part of my brain convinced I was about to drive into the ditch.

Guess I’m nothing if not task oriented.

The Fishing Commences

We’re sorting gear, and in a few minutes I’m heading out to fund Montana’s outdoor programs by purchasing a license.

Then it’s a quick afternoon stint on the Bitterroot (it’s bright so I’m not holding my breath), then we’re leaving for the Missouri.

In fact, should you happen to see a small drift boat containing two handsome men throwing impeccable casts, keep looking – it’s not us.

Simply put, we’re “the other guys” in that scenario – the sorta pre-owned looking pair who are laughing a lot and re-tying more often than we’d like, but who are having big fun with the whole process.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Posted in Road Trip and tagged , .