Part one-(Fiction)

My girlfriend begs me to blog everyday. She needs something to read everyday. She needs something to ponder or laugh at. She has been begging me recently to write her a continuous story. This is that story. Fiction, but my heart, my passion, my life, my dreams, and perhaps some great imbellishment to small things that have happened or I hope would happen.


A tired mid-July sun was beginning to fade upon the bare hills of Maupin,Oregon. This lack of light caused shadows crawl across the breath-taking river valley set before me. This lack of light, began claiming every little crevice it could find to dwell in. The temperature was cooling quite quickly now, more comfortable than the ninety-seven degrees it had been earlier during the day. A soft and equally persistant breeze kissed my semi-tan face, awaking me from a few moments of peace, with the river that I have come to know and love as the Deschutes.

Three of my high school buddies were somewhere behind me, trying to set up a very old and hole plastered World War 2 tent that one of our grandfathers had kept for some reason that escapes me at this percise moment. The laughing that was occuring behind me told me that this was going to be a fun weekend. Perhaps this weekend would change my life. Perhaps this weekend would yield some unknown and unplanned adventure. At the moment however I skipped a smooth silver-dollar sized rock across the Lower Deshutes before me and then I turned to begin helping my friends unpack and begin cooking dinner.

We had been planning this trip for years. We had all been on this river before, though we were young and stupid then, we were even more stupid now to think that we could master and perhaps tame this mighty river flow. The rapids that caused our stomachs to rocket up into our mouths and brains, while threatening to escape through our nicely gelled hair that we cared so much for and hopelessly wished the girls cared for as well. We were hoping that we would make it through the white capped foam ahead. We did. But that was when we were younger. Now, those little pockets of river just cause us to scream at the top of our lungs in pure joy and excitement, knowing that if we were to fall from the ride our ego and pride would be broken and someone might be on edge for a few minutes, that is until the next pocket of excitement came and then it was the same sensation all over again.

The plan was to put in just below Shear's Falls, past the old Indian fishing platforms. The ones where nets were waiting to catch some of the finest salmon in all of Oregon. I wish I could have actually witnessed the Indians work their magic, but I am certain I will probably never see that form of beauty in the States again.

Four days and three nights was the intended and hoped for time line of the rafting and fishing trip. The goal was to bond again as friends. A dude weekend of sorts. A time to find ourselves and our lost friendships. We had come in expectation of rekindling something of our past memories and good times. We had come, because we had promised to do it six years prior to this date.

The four of us, Justin, Aaron, Billy and I, were just putting the finishing touches on the tent, when I had a brilliant idea. I had heard of others doing it on this river as well as various other camping trips. I suggested that we all sleep under the brilliant night sky and its millions of stary waiters and waitresses of beauty and glory. All we needed was the tarp we had brought with us for the tent. We could sleep all four of us comforably on the square sheet. So we immediately quit the preparations for the tent and laid out our sleeping materials.

Billy and Aaron then set out on looking for firewood and kindling. While Justin and I began making preperations for dinner. An easy one; hot dogs, corn chips (with salsa), a handful of baby carrots each, and for dessert; smores.

While the other two were away Justin and I basically pulled all the necessities for dinner out of one of the two huge Costco white coolers, we had brought with us. We really didn't bring that much in the way of food, but we did have a lot in the area of liquid form. We had figured we could catch quite a few fish between the four of us that we had no need for too much food. I am glad that the Deschutes is a year round designated fishing area, because if it hadn't been, we would have been illegally hooking and cooking the well over 20 keepers that we ate and bagged that weekend.

Supposedly Billy and Aaron had gotten spooked or had spooked each other, because they came flailing back to the campsite like little first-grade girls running from the nasty second grade boys back in grade school, screaming all the way. "Holy CRAPS!" and "You will not believe us when we tell you's", strolled off into the night skies and down river to the unsuspecting wildlife and other campers, if there were any still around after the shouts that had just occured upstream.

Apparently there had been some form of creature hiding in a bush real close to where Billy had been gathering wood from. He heard a rustle and jumped back a few feet. Aaron was a few paces away and saw that Billy had been spooked by something, so he came over to where Bily now stood motionless. "Don't move, maybe it wont see us," said Billy. Aaron chuckled and then realized that Billy wasn't kidding. Again a rustle came from the bush and small duck bill portruded from the shrubbery. It hissed at the two unsuspecting friends. Both turned and ran. They had never heard of a hissing duck, but they were not about to stick around to find out what the little winged creature was so cheesed about. No one saw the bird come out of the shrubs, cirlce around it and back into the mass of twig to settle down again with her two new twin boys. Now when the duck was beginning to warm her children again, this was about the time Justin and I greeted our two friends back to camp with very little wood let alone twigs in hand. They proceeded to tell the story of the hissing duck. Justin and I laughed, hard. We decided it was too late for a fire, so we just at marshmellows, graham crackers, and baby carrots for dinner and prepared for bed.

That night when I settled in for sleep, I laughed at the events of the evening. I thought that we might actually find ourselves laughing with and at each other more throughout the next few days. I stared up into the vast heavens above and was enthralled and taken in by the bigness of it all. I felt small. I felt seperated. I felt detached from something, not God. No, God and me were okay at the moment. It was something else. Something smaller than God, but bigger than the falls crashing down a few hundred yards upstream. Something.

Someone made a quacking noise, we laughed, lay flat on our backs and relaxed as we watched the night lights in the sky just as a young child might watch his crib mobile, utterly fascinated until we all fell into sleep.