Posts Tagged ‘slough

09
Mar
17

“By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thyself, see what thy soul doth wear.” George Herbert

slough-clouds-Portland-SwittersB

27
Nov
16

rainy afternoon…

Columbia Slough, which runs along the North end of Portland, Oregon

columbia-slough-portland-oregon-swittersb

01
Oct
15

backwater….

backwater-Fall-color-SwittersB

11
Nov
12

Wet Afternoon Photography

I grabbed the camera and ventured forth into a wet, Fall afternoon. I worked in and around the Big Four Corners Natural Area on the Columbia Slough. The area is undeveloped so one had to be careful keeping track of the path in and out. It wasn’t so much one would get lost (wedged between the slough and a distant roadway) as stumble into a flooded area. The footing was irregular atop downed trees, long grass and standing water.

In the end, I chose to keep it simple as I wasn’t wearing adequate footwear. It was raining hard, windy and 42 degrees. I took a few shots and trudged out. 

Here was the start of the trail, which petered out thirty yards in. It was nice to venture into an undeveloped area. So often when you try to photograph something there is the post, the pipe, the sign of man intruding into the scene. Hopefully, they will leave this alone.

Tenacious Blue…the last vestige of Summer’s palette.

05
Sep
12

Photography: That Subtle Prelude to Fall

Yesterday, I was wandering about, with no purposeful intent. Not enough time to go up on the Sandy R. for Steelhead, too early for Silvers, I opted to take a short stroll down a path next to the South Shore Slough (Columbia R. watershed). Camera in hand, I took my time shuffling along looking.

A few rabbits scurried deeper into the brush. Birds chirped away. I was hoping to see a carp in the waters of the slough, but this was late Summer and the water was choked with a mat of weeds and algae save where canoes ply the water.

From this vantage point, and or when walking down to the water’s edge, I can often see carp cruising, holding, sipping. That is early Spring or in the Winter after the cold has done its work on the mat of muck. The East wind will tear through here soon enough and scour out the water’s surface. Visibility will return, and fishing would be possible.

That slightly changed angle of the sun, hints at seasonal change. Something is different. So subtle. The day is warm, but it looks Fallish. I am alone. Not another person through here. Signs of drinking, smoking, camping. All in all, not much garbage. Ducks work the mucky mat on the surface for bugs. I hear cars in the distance, but I feel alone.

Shooting into the late afternoon sun, the reed’s shadows are dark against the silvery mat of algae.

The vegetation is green on various shades of green and brown. Little contrasts with this save a few wildflowers scattered far and wide.

A rare splash of contrast, this wild little Sweet Pea. Grasping for sunlight, a few blooms made their way up and out of a patch of thistles.

I sat near the opening of this large pipe. Little water was flowing through it. The wind was steady and with a gust of wind, the water’s surface would rustle and send a shimmer across the top of the pipe’s ceiling…ever so subtle but I saw it. To sit and wait for the shimmer across the pipe’s ceiling was a good sign that I was in a quiet place and centered.

I walked back toward my rig. My pace was still slow, my awareness fresher and a few shots captured that I was pleased with. I am not fully prepared when out…this was a spontaneous stop, borne out of escaping. So, there is no tripod at hand or any assortment of lens to capture all that was around me. Yet, it was a good time wandering up a trail, near water with no rod in hand. 

Standing on a bridge, I saw this Blue Heron still as could be. I called out with some concocted call thinking maybe the neck and legs would extend. The bird sat motionless, a sentinel or a predator. I predator I think.

11
Jul
12

‘Someday’ A Drive Up the Gorge for Carp

With life’s demands, of late, bumping my fly fishing  toward the side, even a close by trip seems impossible. The other evening I crossed over a nearby slough that connects to the Columbia River. I decided to pull over and peer off the bridge into the weed choked, murky water that ran (oozed is more like it) beneath the bridge. Not a pretty picture but that is what some aspects of ‘brown lining’ are like. 

There laying like a suspended chunk of wood was a Carp. I could barely make out the slightest movement as the fish just held there. If that were a Trout I would consider myself lucky to live within a quarter mile of the trophy sized fish.

But, I must admit, I have not warmed up to the Carp. Of course, I have not caught one to become enamored with the alleged power and awe of the poor man’s bonefish…so on and so on. But, I want to.

My problem is, I believe, location. The slough is almost weed free earlier in the year. The slough now is covered with a mat of ugliness that provides cover, oxygen and feed for the marauding fish. And, impossible presentation of the fly.  Equally close, is the Columbia River and I bet if I headed East a couple hours+, I could find those cruisers in a slightly more hospitable and more scenic environ. Someday.

Check out these three links re those that know what they are doing and have a passion for chasing and catching these behemoths: Roughfisher and Jean Paul Lipton.John Montana and Carp on the Fly….Trevor Tanner and Fly Carpin…..

‘Someday’ That mentally uttered word. Someday I will go here, there and perhaps drive up the Gorge and ply those shallow waters, near the shoreline, of the mighty Columbia River for the much vaunted behemoths….the Carp. Cheaper than Christmas Island that’s for sure. 

This is a picture of Carp Chaser John Montana. If you query Google Images you can find John hoisting Carp twice as big as this fine specimen. These are not large fish from some pond but rather one of the biggest rivers in the U.S.

28
Apr
10

Fly Fishing: Brownlining and Going Local at a Slough or Ditch

All the rage, going local and simplifying your  life. Turning away from consumption and living within your means. The evolving brownlining, fish local, fish it all approach does expand the world of options.

“Trout and steelhead are fun, but I want to cast big, nasty, furry flies and have some fish straight of the Pleistocene epoch chase it down like a starving coyote after a limping field mouse.” (more thoughts)




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