This trek won't be direct to video.

Byline: INSIDE THE OUTDOORS By John Rezell The Register-Guard

It felt rather natural that my week would begin with a sense of high anticipation. A buzz. I could barely get to sleep. Something was up. I knew not what. I just knew it would be an entertaining ride. In my life, it always is.

I had a hunch that it somehow revolved around my column. Then again, my column seems to revolve around my life, so, it's, like, DUH!, as Madonna would say.

With a column adventure scheduled, I looked forward to an exciting day. That's when life began to take its twists and turns and tangents. That adventure fell through at the last minute.

What to do? What to do?

As I've heard recently around here, when the going gets tough, the tough go fishing. Yeah, that's it. Head out and end the curse. That had to be what was on the agenda. I'd find my column trolling the currents of the McKenzie River.

So, I packed up our black lab (mix) puppy Ridgely, my fishing gear and my video camera - I'd need to have proof - and headed east, up Highway 126.

My good fishing buddy Rick Gurule pointed out, as we launched the boat in Leaburg in the spring, that the area just up river was sweet for fishing. In fact, more than a couple of anglers trolled those waters as we headed downstream.

With rain coming and skies overcast, I figured it was perfect. Somewhere along the line someone told me fish like to strike in the rain. Maybe that was back growing up in Wisconsin, where bass were the fish of choice avoiding my lures.

Whether that applies here, where trout have taken up the cause of endlessly mocking me, I have no idea.

I figured when you're looking at a million-to-one-shot of me ending my jinx in the first place, weather will really have only a slight influence on whether I'll come up empty yet again.

So Ridgely and I hit the rocky shoreline. She was having a blast, ripping up and down, splashing about, while I pulled out the video for my introduction. I have video and photos of all my adventures. Someday I'll share.

In any event, we fished, we frolicked, we videotaped (Debbie needed the digital camera for a shoot that day). At one point, I looked down at the video camera sitting on a rock as the drizzle began to pick up. As Ridgely bolted past, I saw an image of the camera plopping into the cold, clear water.

Not on my watch, I thought. I picked up the camera, shoved it into my backpack and continued my assault on the river. Something about the other side of the river called me like a siren.

So I wound up like Zumaya, spun and let it rip, throwing my entire body into the cast like a world-class shot putter. As I watched the line sail out across the water, time seemed to slow. Just as it hit its zenith, KERPLUNK!

I froze as the lure gently floated to the river, ending with a quiet splish. No question what that KERPLUNK was. I didn't kick a rock into the water. It wasn't Ridgely splashing in. Oh, no. Only one thing makes a sound like that.

I looked down to see the video camera sitting on a rock under a foot or two of clear running water. The same video camera that survived kayaking on the Siuslaw, fishing on this same stretch of the McKenzie, and whitewater rafting a few miles upstream.

I couldn't help but laugh. Yep, there's my column, I thought, figuring I could get by with a wet, freezing arm at the worst. Then the current picked up the camera and dropped it another foot or two down. Ah, drama, even better. Time for a full-fledged plunge!

I don't know how I ended up like this, with the ability to chuckle when others would cry or scream.

I'm just thankful to have this quirky trait, and forever thrilled that I've managed to get Debbie to embrace it, too.

I had a hunch I'd be pulling the subject of a column out of those chilly waters that morning. I just didn't think I'd be pulling it out with my freezing, bare foot. And I didn't think it would be a silvery, cutthroat video camera.

John Rezell, aka Raz, is former editor of VeloNews magazine and bike.com. He's got a new video camera and wants to join you on your next outdoor adventure. Email him at [e-mail].