Up and downstream the Rogue River
40 minutes of white-nuckle maneurvering and rhetorical cigarettes, I was finally back to the point of doubt. Feverishly walking to #17 I was punishing myself with pessimism from the careless act of leaving my favorite putter. Having to force myself to practice positive thinking (as my sister stresses), bolted on a b-line (whatever that means) to that clear, well blended disc I had left the day before. At that moment my attitude about the world shifted while I embarked on another beautiful day. Upon arriving back at the truck, Tary was putting around at the practice basket. He probably thought I was some drugged up big foot hippie traipsing around the forest hollaring and waving some strange piece of plastic. Little did I know this was the person who was going to join me for a celebration round. I was "grateful" to be back in Grant's Pass playing one more round and getting some great pix.
To get us started, Tary threw an anhyzer off the top of hole one. What shocked me more was he was hitting putts from 40-60 feet with yes, either hand. The clouds broke and it reminded me of how a simple instinct fo hope brought me out of the rain. We sat at a picnic bench post round as I rambled on about myself. He labeled me a traveler which was a new notion. He spoke of his adventures which lead up to Alaska where he hopes of one day purchasing a hot springs with disc golf potential as a resort destination for the japanese. Picturing of how I could see this gentleman certainly achieving this great idea, he says, "how bout' we go hit up Lake Selman DGC?" Quickly contemplating I agreed and back to Selma we arrived full circle. The day was capped with a quick photo and as I left the park I'll never forget him looking back and waving me on my way as the sun and shadow beams became one through the trees.