Arrived in the little east-bum-fuck town of Dunsmuir, California after a four hour, late afternoon drive from Napa, looking forward to several peace-filled days of wintry fly-fishing. Road-tripped as I always do: accompanied by local NPR bizarro stations, a mug of green tea, long phone conversations with old friends, half a joint in the ashtray, and a basket full of food and wine. My host is in his early 60s, and a fly-fishing guide-guru. I found him a couple of years ago as he is also a sculptor and I wanted to buy a couple of his pieces for my shop. Two of his ceramic fish, inspired by the beauties in the Upper Sacramento River, now adorn a wall at Heritage Culinary Artifacts.
Ceramic fish created by fly-fishing guru and sculptor Fred Gordon for Heritage Culinary Artifacts.
I arrived at dusk looking forward to my quiet solo dinner on the deck with a view of the river in its wintry splendor… Instead, the old man prepared for me a supper of roasted rainbow trout he caught from his slice of the river, and a venison stew from a recently hunted buck he scored. I brought him good beer (and old Barolo for me), as well as dense polenta bread and perfectly ripe washed rind cheese (from Ireland, of all places), and a salad of bitter Italian greens. We finished with a box of chocolate covered figs from Calabria, (which were gifted to me), along with a tour of his pottery studio. We spoke of our lives, our travels, and hunting.
I nestled into my warm loft bed with flannel sheets situated above the blazing fireplace, the doors wide open to better listen to the rush of the river I will be fishing early in the morning…