It all started with that silly movie. You know the one. All the sudden every guy I knew wanted to be able to throw a fly line and tie the perfect flies. So when faced with the choice of becoming a fishing widow or joining the journey, I chose to go for the ride. And it was a long and bumpy one. I was not what you would refer to as a "natural". Quite the contrary. The first five years were pretty much skunked. That's right. Five YEARS! But I was determined and slowly but surely, I began to land fish. Or at least get them close enough to look them in the eye.I remember my first fish, because it was my first. A respectable 16" trout. Then a couple years later, I remember that big hog wild rainbow (swear it felt like a salmon) that my buddy Bill had to help me land. That sucker jumped five times and almost spooled me. And now, I remember this one. It was my first lightweight (3 wt.) take and I was being cheered on by many of my favorite people as I brought this beauty in.
When I got started in this I really didn't understand the deal. But now that I've been doing this for ten years, I get it. Now that I think about it, fishing provides me the stillness that I need to balance out my ever moving, ever changing life! So here's to you my slimy, scaly, little (and not so little) friends. Thanks for the tight lines and quiet times.
