{"id":38170,"date":"2026-02-08T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-02-08T16:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/?p=38170"},"modified":"2026-03-02T13:02:32","modified_gmt":"2026-03-02T21:02:32","slug":"deschutes-journals-part-2-the-ledges","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2026\/02\/08\/deschutes-journals-part-2-the-ledges\/","title":{"rendered":"Deschutes Journals Part 2 – The Ledges"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Ledges, Deschutes River, 1982<\/em><\/p>\r\n

Up with that damned alarm next morning. The only light I can see comes from the kitchen, where the redoubtable Kohn is getting breakfast and coffee going before we rouse the troops. I press the heels of my palms into my eye sockets and take a deep breath, then slip into shorts and sneakers, toss on a hoody and grab my headlamp. Danish, sliced cantaloupe and honey dew melon wait on the table. A huge pot of black coffee simmers on the Coleman.<\/p>\r\n

Half an hour later, I lug my dry bag and lounger to the bank alongside the raft, the way Kohn likes it. I slip into my waders, then find Gordy and confirm the day\u2019s plan. I hear voices out on the water and in the light of the lantern we make out Mike standing knee deep in the river, holding the rail of my boat with one hand and sipping his coffee with the other. Kenny and Don are in the front seats. Gordy snorts.<\/p>\r\n

I walk down to the bank and break into a grin. \u201cYou\u2019re waiting on me, correct?\u201d They laugh. \u201cHang on.\u201d \u00a0I pick my vest off a nail in a tree and walk over to get my rod. I swear, sometimes you couldn\u2019t pry your guys out of the sack with a stick, other times they came to fish. As I climb aboard and settle in at the row station Gordy calls out: \u201cGood luck.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\"\"<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll nail a camp in Kloan if possible,\u201d I call back, \u201cNo need to have Kohn bust a nut. Either it\u2019s vacant, someone\u2019s there and packing up or there and staying put. We should be rolling just in time to lay claim if it\u2019s vacant.\u201d Gordy nods. \u201cIf Sumac isn\u2019t open, then either the little spot up by the bridge or if you think we can fit, down at Cabin.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

I nod.\u00a0\u201cKohn deserves some fishing time; he\u2019s been on it like glue the entire trip. We\u2019ll be there well ahead of him, in any case, so he needn\u2019t hurry.\u201d Mike pulls the boat clear of the boney shallows and climbs aboard. I wag the oars a couple of times then draw half blades until we clear the rocks and the current takes us.<\/p>\r\n

With the coffee, the excitement fills me again: We are on the water chasing after the prince of fishes at break of day in a gorgeous, desert canyon. We ferry mid-channel and shoot the chute, bucking the standing waves like we\u2019re riding a bronco. As we pass the big sled camp, we see lanterns flickering in the trees and one fellow down by the boats; we wave in silence.<\/p>\r\n

The boat is quiet, voices subdued. Only the soft plash of oars mars the silence as I keep the boat to center channel and sip my coffee. It is tempting to stop and fish yesterday\u2019s water, but we hug the far bank and sweep along the narrow channel below the LOCKIT sign up alongside the tracks. Kenny turns to me: \u201cSo what\u2019s the drill, boss?\u201d<\/p>\r\n