May in Oregon means Salmonflies are flying on the Lower Deschutes. Any remotely serious angler in Oregon has a trip to the Deschutes on his or her calendar during this time of the year. While it's hard to say anything about the Deschutes that hasn't already been said, it's indeed a magical place that I look forward to visiting each year.
It's the kind of place that you never really leave, with sensations that stick with you long after the sunburn and chapped lips have subsided. Sage soaked air and alkaline water that turns one's hands and feet to sand paper. Prehistoric bugs crawling down your shirt collar. Fish eager to engorge themselves on your fly, even when your presentation is less than perfect. Train cars rumbling by at odd hours of the night, carrying liquid nitrogen, new cars, petroleum, and other untold comcommodities.
Looking back at pictures from this year's floats, it's almost like I could step back into them... the smells, sounds, thoughts. Until next year, they'll have to do.