Fifty Miles
Fifty miles separate the two water shown above, and the fish that reside in them.
Only fifty miles between a warmwater oasis and a coldwater refuge with as different denizens as the waters’ color and clarity.
In one, the quickest and most cunning of predators, hiding at the bottom of deep pools, in shadow beneath boulders, and underneath undercuts in search of other, unsuspecting fish. In the other, a casual brute, cruising the shallows in search of various nibbles — worms, insects, plants, whatever — seemingly uninterested in what watches from above.
Similar: both mighty, both difficult to find, both difficult to hook, let alone land.
And unique: one native, protected, revered, uncommon; the other invasive, insulted, overlooked, and — as their name implies — common.
Salvelinus confluentus: the immaculate, inimitable, and redoubtable bull trout. And Cyprinus carpio: the homely, stubborn, and intriguing common carp. Last month, I unexpectedly encountered both — fifty miles apart — in the same week and it struck me how unique that particular proximity may be.
The first, Mr. Cruising Carpio, snuck into my peripheral vision while speeding along Eugene’s North Bank bike path. Did I see that?? I asked myself. I slammed on the brakes, turned around and slowly moved into the shadows to where I could spot two of them leisurely making their way across the duck pond. I considered biking home and returning with a rigged rod, but I was about ten miles from my gear.
The second, Mr. Big Mouth Bull Trout, appeared from the depths of a bottomless pool in the upper river. I fished exactly one spot that day — running whitewater primarily — but in that one spot, hooked a small whitefish. Mr. BMBT surprised us with its golden-brown body, as long as my leg, as it took three swipes at the poor little whitey. Then, gone. Did you see that?? I asked Stacey.
Fifty miles apart and in completely different worlds.
And yet, only fifty miles apart.
