Ode to the OlympicsBy JEFF LUND February 10, 2014
Well, that’s not true. The morning of the not-so Super Bowl my truck died at the river and I had to be towed. So the next morning when I went to the river to fish for steelhead, I had to take my bike. My childhood 10-speed is still in the garage and in relatively good shape, but fortunately for me I have a better, newer bike to take me to the steelhead. It’s not the cross-country skiing and shooting that makes up the actual Olympic event, but there are two definitive parts which require some semblance of athleticism and skill. I felt like it was a big deal, but really it wasn’t. People run or ride their bikes every day regardless of weather. I guess the reason I felt as though my little biathlon was so innovative was because rather than wearing vapor-wicking fitness technology, I had layers of warm clothing covered by my chest waders and a 6-weight fly rod sticking up from my pack. It was also a big deal because a year ago I was wearing shorts all around California, and now I was riding a bike on a 22-degree morning to catch steelhead down the street. It was one of those images I never thought I’d live, one of those moments life provides which makes you think, “wow” rather than, “really?”. Within two pumps of my legs, I knew I was in trouble. While the air temperature cut off my nose from feeling and started a substantial leak, my out of shape legs started generating heat at an alarming rate causing copious amounts of sweat to soak my fleece pants. I wasn’t even going very fast, what would happen when I got into the water? I decided to endure, to channel my inner Olympian (not much there) and attack the asphalt and later, the steelhead. When I approached the first spot I slowed to get my pulse under control before the chill of the water. When I did get to the river which was frozen in the slack pooled spots, I only waded in to my shins. It was enough to get a bright steelhead fly in front of a bright irritated steelhead. The steelie thrashed and made a few impressive runs, then finally came in. I put my gloved hand around the base of its tail and pushed the shutter on my camera with the other. In the ten seconds I had between the pushing and the snapping, I lifted the fish from the water, posed with my chrome prize, and slid it back into the water. It swam off immediately, splashing cold water in my face with its powerful tail. I biked home in the early afternoon after a lunch of peanut butter sandwiched between homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Not sure how many Olympians around the world share that same day-of competition meal... That night I plotted a new two-event morning should I not be called in to be a replacement teacher for the day. Sure enough, there was no work, so I borrowed my mom’s car and drove out for a two-hour hike. I missed the sunrise by about 15 minutes, but the view from the frozen alpine did what I needed it to. On the way home, I stopped off at the river, caught another steelhead and was home by noon. I always thought there would be no greater honor than being a member of the US Olympic team, but realized the only one I was possibly fit enough for was curling. Curling seems like it can be done by ordinary dudes like myself, but my dream will stay just that. Unless the river continues to freeze over, then I might just have to add a triathlon to this week’s schedule of events.
Jeff Lund ©2014 Jeff Lund is a Teacher and Freelance Writer living in Klawock, Alaska E-mail your news &
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