Fly Lines
by Jon Judy
The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
For years, when driving the highway toward Eugene, I have eyed the upper stretches of the McKenzie River, above McKenzie Bridge. It's beautiful water, not heavily fished, managed primarily for wild trout.
Old timers tell great stories of the native fish that were once caught in the area. Those who know the water well say that, despite deterioration, there are still some decent fish around.
When I tried to catch a few of them, I found that access to the river is limited. Private land borders the stream, which has a steep gradient with more rapids than pools. There are long hikes between fishing area.
After a little exploration it became obvious that the way to get at the river is by boat.
A year or so ago, at a guide's convention, I met a man named Jim Berl, owner and operator of Jim's Oregon Whitewater Guide Service out of McKenzie Bridge. Jim offered a trade.
"I'll show you my river if you'll show me the Metolius," he offered.
"That's a deal." I said, and the trip was arranged.
Fishing the upper McKenzie is not something for everyone. It's clearly a coordinated effort between the oarsman and the fisherman. Both have to be on their game in order to catch fish.
The whitewater in this upper section is so demanding that Jim is one of the few guides qualified to take clients into this area. He does so only under strict conditions. The client has to be an experienced flyfisherman, there is only one client in the boat, and Jim will only make the run during higher flows in the spring.
Part of the pleasure in this trip is the whitewater and watching a top notch boatman like Jim work his craft. He's so skillful he makes a drift boat swim the river like a fish. The way he use the currents and all of the oarsman's skill make it look easy.
Rather than running rapids down the center, the standard route, Jim works the edges. Walking the boat in and around the boulders, giving the fisherman every opportunity. It's a treat to watch him hug the boulders and then slip in behind them and stall in eddies behind the rocks, leaving the caster suspended for a moment in the heart of the best fishing.
Jim's skill and hard work in presenting these opportunities made me, the fisherman, work that much harder. I didn't want to muff opportunities he worked so hard to give me.
"Jim," I said, "I feel bad you're working so hard and I'm doing all the fishing."
"Don't feel bad," Jim said, "I love the whitewater, and this is a team effort. I can't fish it without a fisherman, and you can't fish it without a boatman. The fish we catch are not yours, or mine, they're ours. I'm having a great day."
So we went on: a team. Sadly, I did a "distance release" on the one really good fish of the day, and let Jim down a little, but we managed to boat a fair number of smaller natives in the 12 to 14 inch range.
Perhaps it's not great fishing by some Central Oregon standards, but the boat, the team effort, the whitewater, the river, the day, made it really unique — a quality fishing experience.
