The first place I ever camped in a trailer was on the Chewaucan river, so I couldn’t resist a brief side trip for lunch when our path took us through Paisley, Oregon. While the river was very familiar, I couldn’t quite find the old place where we used to pull off and camp. Driving up the river and looking at the trees and sagebrush reminded me of when I was about five years old, camping in the old family Taurus trailer, towed by our Jeep Wagoneer, which typically broke down in some way at some point along our trips. There are now a handful of campsites and parks along the first six miles or so of the road from Paisley, and it’s hard to tell exactly where we camped.
The river must still be full of fish, because when the boys and I stopped for lunch, I grabbed my fly rod, tied on a #16 Royal Wulff, and caught a six-inch fish on the second or third cast. Satisfied with that, I let the little fellow go and we headed back on the road.