Maybe I need to get out fishing, or maybe it was too much turkey over the Thanksgiving weekend. The other night, I had a dream....
In my dream, I drove up to Cowles, New Mexico on the headwaters of the Pecos river. There was a fly shop up there (where none really exists). This was not one of your high brow Orvis type shops. It was an old shop, with old gear, and an old gentleman running the place. The shop had that musty smell that let you know it had been there a long while. The interior plywood walls were painted a pale yellow color. A bell attached to the door announced my arrival.
There was another old man that appeared to be hanging around the shop just shooting the breeze with the owner. When I walked in this man introduced himself as Bob. This was no ordinary Bob though, it was John Voelker, a.k.a. Robert Traver. I parked my butt on a large wooden box-like structure that I think held minnows - the kind you'd find in a old bait shop. I just stayed there all day, talking flies and telling lies. We talked, we joked, we laughed.
Some freinds of mine came into the shop at one point, and were going fishing. I decided not to join them, opting to stay and talk to this legend. They didn't really know who he was, nor did they care. I, on the other hand, grew up in Michigan, and his writings were of a special significance to me.
When I awoke, I couldn't reconcile in my clouded mind why he had left Frenchman's Pond in Michigan's upper penninsula and was now hanging out at a fly shop in the Pecos Wilderness. I wish I'd asked him.
And what pearls of wisdom did Mr. Voelker impart to me? I haven't a clue. Dreams are funny that way...
