The Eleven Point River

It was a long wait, but in the end, completely worth it. Eric and I had our annual "just us" weekend get away. Surprisingly, we don't have many of these weekends under our belt despite our first born being ten years of age. Our past excursions have taken us to Shannon County and Carter County. This year it was to be Oregon County. Specifically, Alton, Missouri.

Eric reserved us a pretty log cabin facing the Mark Twain National Forest. Our plans were simple: to be alone together, relax, soak up as much of nature as possible, and float the Eleven Point River, and fish (Eric only). Ready, set...

We arrived in Alton on Friday afternoon. After getting a key to our cabin, we stopped in Eleven Point Canoe Rental and talked with Brian, the owner. We made plans for him to shuttle our truck the next day and we left with a restaurant recommendation, (what felt like) a new friend, and I had a fishing license with a trout stamp-just in case.

We really liked our log cabin. It wasn't huge, but was open and very accommodating. Eric thought that something similar would suit us nicely when we build our place in the country. I have much grander dreams of a single massive kitchen/dining/living room with baths and beds tucked away in a loft somewhere. One day... soon, I sincerely hope.

Saturday morning came and we greeted the first day of autumn with excitement for the day ahead. Our first float on this river and on the first day of autumn without kids? Yes, it was going to be splendid.

I'm married to this guy! How lucky am I? I say, SUPER lucky.

We chose just a five mile stretch to float. Even so, it ended up being a full eight hour day, ending only because of the dark. We set in at Greer Spring (we had visited there years ago-amazing and very much worth the walk with a whiny two and six year old). The pull out was just as beautiful-Turner's Mill.

Things didn't start our flawlessly. I think it best to get the day's hiccups out of the way as soon as possible, while one is fresh and not yet weary. A high school science teacher (from STL, no less), and his very green class of students, found their way to the put in as Eric and I were there getting the pontoons ready for their launch. They were a fun group of kids, who, hopefully, will learn to take their manners with them on all future outdoor endeavors. Kids, take turns and play nice-even if you are in an urgent hurry to get in the river first.

Having this large group ahead of us was probably for the best anyway. I soon found myself in my brand new waders in my individual pontoon (yet another first) on this new-to-me, river. Eric wasted no time getting his line in. He was soon rewarded with his first rainbow of the day.

We floated a while longer, and then parked the pontoons so that I could wade and fish. I actually have fly fished with my husband before. I think it was on our first "us only" weekend in Eminence. We were in the Jack's Fork River, and, well, it was frustrating. Eric isn't a very good teacher. That may sound mean, but it's really just the basic truth of the matter. I soon discovered that his teaching skills and methods have not improved since then.

There were a few things in my favor this time around. Destiny, only one rod (Eric was completely focused on ME fishing), and communication. As in me saying, "Eric, I am NOT a fly fisherman, I don't know what the hell it means to mend my fucking line! I don't speak your language!"

Fishing the Eleven Point was more than I could have ever hoped for. Maybe watching all of Eric's fly fishing movies, reading the blogs, and basically being forcibly immersed in his sport taught me something. Watching my line drift...it was simply beautiful and mesmerizing. I couldn't get enough of it. Looking for a deep pocket of water, casting every way imaginable just to finally land in the perfect spot, and then watching the line drift with the current- maybe the fish weren't hooked, but I was.

My man and his accessories-pontoon, camo Busch, fly rod, Eleven Point River,and his wifey.

This is what he came for.

We were standing in shallow water and I was receiving my first lesson of the day (from a horrible teacher, mind you). I was learning how to hold my rod correctly with my thumb in the right spot. Eric talked to me like I was one of his friends (not the single syllable type of grunts they usually communicate with, but rather, fishing terminology). He told me to make a "D" loop and sometimes I did.

Again and again, I cast my line. I soon caught something; a rock. Eric held the rod as I walked out to remove it from the hook. Eric reeled in the line as I walked those ten feet back to him to get the rod. In a sudden move of complete selfish stupidity, he decided to make a quick cast and instantly caught MY fish! THIS after I had already told/warned him that he was not allowed to fish until I caught my first fish (he had caught one earlier). He ignored my command and caught my beloved fish. I actually cried and cussed him out at the same time. Who knew what a passionate angler I would be? He told me there was, "no crying on the river" and I told him to, "fuck off!", through my frustrated tears.

I hooked into three fish before finally getting the fourth in my hands. Two of those three got within a few feet of me and it was so exciting. Eric was a teaching, correcting, reminding, chastising machine. "MEND your line!!!" I occasionally did it right, but usually on complete accident.

Things happen fast out there in the water, so when I really got a fish hooked, it was a bit of an insane, exciting, panicky, frenzy. I didn't just not know how to fly fish, I also didn't know what to do when I actually caught a fish. That teacher of mine must not have been too confident in his student, as he didn't prepare me for success. So I did what came naturally to me, which is stripping the line through my teeth. Apparently, that is not the proper way to land a fish. Eric's reaction to my naivety was hysterical. He was indignant, shocked, and amused. He later commented on what sharp teeth I have as he showed me the damage I did to his seventy dollar line. I'm learning...

Another thing I discovered is that not all fish are created equal. When I finally got my hands on my trout, I might have been slightly on the aggressive side when handling it. I feel so bad because I totally should have know better based on the harsh criticism anglers receive on the Chum. I expected it to be slimy, with prickly scales. Not so. Trout are soft and fleshy and kind of delicate.

I also love that we fish with artificial flies. One thing I hate about "regular" fishing is dealing with live bait. I hate to be such a girl about this, but I think worms are icky. Sticking a hook through a minnow's eyes isn't cool either. With fly fishing, you can use the same fly all day if you want. Brilliant.

I honestly didn't now what to expect on this river. I've spent my entire life on two of Missouri's prettiest rivers-the Jack's Fork and Current. I thought, "How different can the Eleven Point

be?" It IS different. We floated from Greer to Turner's Mill and that particular section is deep. It has sharp turns. There aren't many gravel bars and the ones that are there, aren't huge. The river runs through a deep valley that shows no signs of erosion. It's perfect and honest. We even saw a raccoon drinking from the river.

Maneuvering the pontoons on a very sharp turn, littered with nature's obstacles.

I'm so glad Eric and I experienced this river for the first time together. These all-too-rare weekends alone, remind me of when we were dating. We always have great fun together. We allow each other to explore and take our time investigating new discoveries. Eric points out a hatch, I point out native flowers. Our individual differences make us stronger together. They also keep things interesting.