I just got home from Gold Hill and I was hoping this would NOT happen but it did. I am now officially “Rogue Sick” which means I can’t live my life without being as close to those waters as often as I can.

Ready to sign my life over to the river, Im hooked

I was hoping I would not catch this ailment but it’s quite contagious and I knew I was high risk. There is no cure.

But there are ways to enjoy my new curse- like learning to fly fish and eventually getting my own raft and custom frame, cooler, AND OARS at Sawyer Station. I blame them for inviting me down in the first place so let’s get into what they do-

Sawyer Station will set you up with whatever you need to be comfy and prepared on the water

Sawyer Station is an outfitter shop set up for the DIY water adventurer. They have paddles and oars (which they hand make in The Rogue Valley) but they also have drift boats, rafts of all sizes, paddleboards, helmets, PFD, and all the connections to make sure you can customize your time on the water- from a day trip to even a month trip if that’s what you need.

I went down in April to kick off the paddle season. However, it was not my first trip to the Rogue River. I’d driven down many times on my way to the beloved Southern Oregon Coast- following the rivers path to magic… There was always something special about this corridor. Green oaks and golden hills, shaded coves, sweet river air, the gentle roar of FUN.

Rainbows kept showing up in my photos this trip to the Rogue

A few late Augusts back- I spent a weekend in an airbnb just above Gold Nugget wayside, a peaceful moment: my camp chair in the shade, shin deep in the water when a black bear and her two cubs swam across the river in front of my eyes. The flock of wild turkeys behind me didn’t seem to notice. I spent the rest of my time off and on the floating dock- slowly lowering myself into the icy water and getting a tan. I was smitten with the swirls along the riverbank. Sink or swim, this river was a part of my psyche for life.

I heard there are cougars in the water too- look out!

As long as there is water- I'll be there.

Flash forward to sitting in a Rio Craft on a custom fishing frame with Zac Kaufman and his wife Gail (the sweetest woman, a retired grade school teacher) primed and ready for a day of floating and filming and fishing. FFFun. Although we’d been graced with a slight reprieve from the Rogue Valley heat the weekend before (as I’d been glamping and quite cold in Chiloquin) we were back up to triple digit heat. I have some choice words about the massive wall of heat of this valley, as I’m more of a coastal weather kind of girl.

The Rogue waters are cold enough though- both for me and the chinook!

The fish were biting (at least the little guys) and Gail soon had one dancing on the line.

Zac, Gail, and Boots (stealing the show)

I’m starting to learn the names of the put-ins, take-outs and rapids. Nugget- Powerhouse run is one I’m proud to share as I went out with Rogue Rafting Company and Travel Medford as part of Zip-Dip-Sip tour in the spring.

I didn't quite get the memo that I was ziplining AND THEN whitewater rafting until about an hour before- my nerves thank that missed memo because once you see it (the dip) you might not believe your eyes.

Two Class IV rapids end out that run- Til'omikh Falls (Powerhouse) and Nugget. Both certainly look nice- from the bank!

Still it’s quite a surprise- Once you're suited up in helmets, splash jackets, and a life vest staring squarely at the top of a drop consisting of swirling white water, stumps, and who knows what else can grab at you from the depths- you start to reconsider your decision to play that day.

Certainly though- it's the thrill that's the best dang part and what keeps you eddying back

(see what I did there?)

It only took once down to shout “AGAIN!” like some toddler who just got a ride in a helicopter. Never mind the danger, I’d sort that out next time ... .because there would be a next time.

Now if I’d had a cold before- the fever for the river could only grow. I’m hooked up to those waves.

To add to the rush- the perfect catch.

I grew up in a fishing family- crawling around the lava banks of the cascades with a spinning rod in hand. I’d catch my limit on velveeta cheese and a worm with a little caviar egg on top. Bored and nonchalant as fishing was ALL WE EVER DID. My first cast was off the side of my dad’s Jon Boat he inherited from his grandfather, I was probably 6 or 7. They’d take that old boat out tuna fishing in the Ocean. I’m not sure what they were thinking.

The only photo I could find of the old jonboat- my uncle 18 years ago without Sawyer oars ;)

That boat is mine now and it’s the boat on which I learned to row. I’ll tell you- id rather sit in this raft though….it’s quite the dream the way it’s set up and like a luxury Cadillac compared to the drift boats of old that I spent my middle school years hauling in for my dad.

So amazing to see how these oars are made!

We never had oars like Sawyer- which are another thing you need to see to believe. I’ve seen them so I’ll show you- they are expertly handcrafted by an awesome crew in Talent, Oregon. I’ve been to the factory several times now and without divulging any industry secrets- I can tell you these products are made with heart and each one is built by hand. Since 1967 Sawyer has been making oars and paddles that are whitewater ready right here in OREGON! They can’t be replicated and they are actually so beautiful.

Sawyer Oars & Paddles have been Oregon crafted since 1967

There’s a particular SUP Stick I have my eye on and will treat myself to one day- because it’s choice.

Now back to the fishing- of all the casts I’ve sunk into a pocket none of them have been on the fly. I always thought that angling was my jam but this day on the river Zac decided I needed to try the fly and taught me how it’s done. One my third cast I thought I’d scraped the bottom but instead the whole team was cheering because I’d caught my first fly cast fish!

It’s all downhill from here I fear. It’s been done- the river will steal my life.

Woohoo! dropping down a rapid, fishing gear in hand

We tucked in our gear and literally scooted down Bitterman and Lyman Falls, both class II rapids. I squealed for my life as the water dipped over the nose of the craft and I was happy as a clam on a full moon tide- I could turn around and surf that wave or crash on over into the shade and have a sandwich. Either way- the perfect day was in that line and in that ride.

The team decided it was indeed sandwich time and I swear it’s like going back in time to that feeling after a full day of swimming and you stuff potato chips into your turkey sandwich and you sigh and say “LIFE IS GOOD”

Gail makes us the best shady river sandwiches of all time

Now this is where that fishing day ends- but not my day. Ashland is just about 30 miles away from Gold Hill and once you’ve been to Ashland you understand the experience of “whisked away” because The Rogue Valley has so many wineries, playhouses, places to relax and beat the heat. It doesn’t feel tropical- it doesn’t feel like Willamette Valley Heat- it’s not even how I’d describe California- it is a third thing and I think it must feel like FRANCE. (at least in my mind)

The Rogue Valley has it all- here is a bit of the harvests from on top of Table Rock

The next morning we met our guide for a little instruction- Jim of Andras Outfitters was here with the gear to show us the right way to fly fish the Rogue. This day we’d be focusing on a nice cast and shooting some film for a space on The Fly Fishing Film Tour (F3t) of which Sawyer Oar is an official partner. No rapids :( but there's always next time.

Jim our guide and me after a great day fishing on the Rogue

I learned to cast beautifully or at least look like it on camera- I jest and I don’t want to sound full of myself but there’s something different about throwing a line for a little loop as you float down a river saying “here fishy fishy”; it occupies the time with each cast.

My first thought is something in my mind I need to let go of

Then it’s

“am I learning this right?”

And I’m new enough to the sport to not have muscle memory
So training my brain helps me stay

Right here

And magic exists in the Right. Here.

Time melts, worries dissipate, the catch doesn’t even matter.

Basically, nothing matters except for maybe snow melt and the magnitude of the wind across the canyon and what’s next yonder bridge…lets go an see….

A cast

To throw away

Time

To slow down.

To breathe.

The trick to any sport is always in the breath.

Even now as I write I think about how I don’t like to sit and write so much and I’d rather float all the way to the Ocean and see what there is to not want to write about there.

Gold Beach- I’m looking at you!

Truly, I was grateful for my time in Gold Hill. There is a treasure to be found- if you know where to look. That treasure is all over Oregon. It’s not usually what you expect to find though, it’s more in the seeking that the gold appears under your feet- and often that is just a feeling of peace.

Till next time Oregon and if you're ever near Gold Hill swing on by Sawyer Station and say hi- it might just lead to YOUR next adventure ;

Fishing the Rogue River with Sawyer Station

Roloff Farms Pumpkin Patch

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