It had been over 40 years since we had fished together. We hadn't even so much as seen each other in that time frame either. After all these years we were finally going fishing together again. The years had moved each of us off into the development of our familles and careers, or life style changes that everyone grows through in their lifetime & for all those same reasons, what ever they were. Truthfully, I hadn't even thought about me fishing, as it was referred to in my family of men, the day we guys go fish, you make food bring it to us at oh say noon thirty. Unbeknownst to me, the planning for a fishing trip together in the spring had started that fall, after his first call. He, I believe, began to slowly plant a few seeds in my mind. One day I received this box of fly tying materials in the mail. I thought it was the funniest thing. It was complete with a vise, feathers I knew not what they had come from. My youngest son, made many attempts at tying, and I thought the box was really for him. He was actually pretty good at it. I kinda played around with some things but wasn't sure what I was doing. It however created this sense of urgency to learn more about the food the fish ate and what time of year everything happened.

On Christmas Eve, I got a late delivery from the UPS guy, it was for me, and from Seattle. Christmas morning brought a new Sage fly rod, and Hardy reel. Ready to fish. With the freshly fallen snow and a partially frozen river, I was going fishing. I dug around for those flies that my son had tied, not knowing what to take, but it didn't really matter to me, I had to go fish! I had 15 feet of open water on the river down from the house. I cast there until my fingers were stuck to the rod. No, I didn't catch anything, but those were some really swell hours that passed. While the others cooked Christmas dinner. I was lost in 40 years of memories and a lifestyle I knew nothing about but had often dreamed of how it could have been. But I knew I certainly wanted to learn more and I knew it needed to be as fast as I could. I think that after Christmas, we began to plan this trip from across the miles, him in Seattle, and me in Northern Colorado.
All the things you try to learn in one felled swoop, when you pick up a new hobby created a monster in me. My thirst for knowledge of the subject turned to a voracious hunger. I began to literally see everything my eyes would fall across from the point of view of how it would fit into fly fishing or tying. My children, who literally would have to drag me kicking off to the mall to go shopping, began to notice that I went "shopping " more. They just didn't know I was becoming a frequent fly shop visitor. (Even I noticed I really did enjoy shopping, especially for things I wanted to see). However, I was still not going out to fish much, I had a great excuse, "no one to go with me". So I emersed myself in reading about it.
We decided a late spring trip would be best, before the real run off, and yet after the really narly weather had passed, some where around Memorial Day weekend. I was getting so excited about this, our first reunion and a fly fishing trip, that I had brought about an excitement my whole family and friends were getting involved in. Over the balance of that long cold winter, a few more boxes arrived each stuffed with feathers and bits of mysterious fur, some of which I still to this day have not figured out what they came off of. Many trips to the fly shops around town were made in my attempt to learn everything I could. I bought new gear, flies, I tried to tie some up, they looked pretty poor, but some of them actually caught fish.
By mid April, I had begun to cast somewhat better I believed. I could be found at 6 am out in the horse pasture casting to make believe fish on beautiful fly water (in my minds eye) dreaming of the trip I was about to take. Each time my long lost friend would call, we would go over casting tips, and fly tying secrets, he continued to encourage me. The words he said the most often to me were " just go fish", it will all begin to make sense the more you do it.

I was a little reluctant to head off into the mountains by myself and tromp through the rattlesnake infested weeds, and or across the hills to some back country places alone with the reports of the mountain lion attacks increasing as people had encroached into their terrain.
But one day when he said to me "hey, if you don't go, you won't know what your missing, just go fish." I continued to complain I didn't have anyone to go with. He said, "well then, just go fish. Why do you think you need someone to go with? Just be careful and go where your comfortable, hang out by the hiway by the bridge and be careful. If it doesn't feel good when you stop someplace, then don't stop there, go on to the next place. Find a place you feel comfortable and go fish."
Well, how can you argue with that advice. I lived right on the river, and had miles and miles of access to perfect fly fishing water. I fished the early spring away. I began to go after work in the evenings, and almost every weekend. I also started to drive farther away in search of better places, actually more and more secluded. For some reason I was out to prove I could do this alone as well as with friends. When I lived on the ranch, being alone out in the elements was a pretty common thing, I had just forgotten I did know the basics of survival and wasn't really afraid of what was out there, I was afraid I'd like it, and then..... I would have to commit to something new, and I was right, and so was he!

I would report about my fishing trips to him on our weekly calls. His encouragement and my sharing the adventures were like we had fished those trips together in some way. We were soon going to get to do that. We planned to meet on the upper Green River in southern Wyoming. He had arranged for a guide he knew to take us down the river. In the late spring in northern Colorado and Wyoming, the weather can be in the 70's one day and a fast moving blizzard can charge through within hours. Even that thought didn't daunt us, as we made ready for this trip. He was to arrive there the day before and get camp set up and get the final guide arrangements taken care of. I left home at 5 PM, for what normally should have taken about 5-6 hours. Forty five minutes into the trip north, with Laramie Wyoming in the rear view mirror and a hot cup of coffee in hand, I headed west on interstate 80. I heard reports of blizzards, pouring rain and lightening storms across Elk Mountain on the radio. Well, what else was new, I had a 4 wheel drive and a good load, decent tires and chains if I needed them. I was just going to have to forge on. As I headed west into the night, it took me 5 hours to cross just Elk Mountain in the blizzard. I stopped in Rawlins and a truck driver who had been following me told me that I had done some pretty fancy driving out there for a woman. I got more coffee and moved on!
I thought FISH FISH FISH and drove on.
As I got closer I took out the little map I had drawn, from directions he had given me on the phone, with the dim cab lights on I found my way up a little two lane road to a grocery store as the sun came up. His truck was parked out front and was he ever glad to see me. Those words I will remember forever, "Hey Sport, what took you so long?" as he hugged me tight we laughed! I am sure his worries were as bad as mine or even worse since I had no way to call him. It wasn't a big deal now that I was there with him.
We were getting our gear together when the guide arrived with a clattering boat and trailer in tow. Once the put ins and take outs were decided and what vehicles to take were chosen, off we went, it all began to happen quickly. Mostly the discussion was between he and the guide as all the language was Greek to me. Gee I remembered it totally different from 40 years earlier, we merely walked to the river, threw a hook with a worm on it out there and caught huge fish. Nonetheless, before I knew it, we were floating on a very peaceful river on a really warm and sunny day. What a contrast from the night before.
I was here so was my friend, fishing together again. Even though I was tired, I didn't feel it really, I was caught up in the excitement happening all around me. By mid day I had really begun to learn about casting, (what I thought I knew went out the window) from the pointers the guide gave me and from my friend. With every football sized fat trout one of us would catch, we would look at each other and the years of sepration fell away. Even the moment I had to get out of the boat for the first time and wade in the deep strong run off fed current, while my 98 pound body tried to float away and with the guide literally holding on to me, so I could reel in my first 20 inch fish, we were glad we had put forth the effort to make this trip. Our re newed friendship was leaving behind the 40 years and it seemed to have become merely yesterday since we had gone fishing together. I felt like a kid again.
On the last night we reflected all those years, and all the water that had gone under the bridge with them. Yes, the fish we caught on the magnificant river over the past five days were all that we had expected and more. But, more than anything, the bringing together of a little girl now a woman,and her father, or maybe it was the other way around, a father and his daughter had been the best part.
He told me that fly fishing isn't a mere sport, it will change your life forever, and generally for the better, for you will broaden your friendships, see more country and travel to far away places you might not otherwise have thought you would get to in your life time. But, most of all he said, it provides some folks who have been stymied in a "still life" setting with a new direction to head.
All of what he had said that night under the big stars came to be true for me. I realized I had been mired in a hateful divorce and a no where job. My children were growing up and I had lost touch with who I was, I had lived for everyone else. The pity party I had created for myself had totally blinded me to crossing the ruts and opening my eyes up to do something I wanted to do. Maybe I didn't know what it was I was in search of. Getting involved with this lifestyle they call Fly Fishing, has certainly changed my life.
My father and I go fishing every chance we can. We go to our annual "fish." We plan for one big trip now each year, where we go and eat a mean steak and fish till we drop or merely sit by the river and talk for long hours. I have purchased a pontoon boat, at his encouragement of course, and use it almost every weekend when I can get on a river. I have moved closer to him now that the kids are gone, and I have a full room devoted to fly tying. I have a completely mobile set up in my truck and camper. I enjoy tying along the river, some days I forget to fish because I get lost in tying the bug I found the day before while I was fishing.
Sigh..................... what a life.

I still see the whole world through the fly fishers eyes, and wouldn't change anything. I especially like it when my four year old grand daughter sits next to me for hours ever patient on her stool, and tells me as I tie a new fly, "hey grandma, it looks exactly like the picture, you did good grandma."
She now saves every feather for me she sees at the beach, or on her walks with her Mom, so that I may tie a beautiful fly for her with it. We are about to plan out first fly fishing adventure together. I will keep you posted, I am sure it will be very memorable.
Thanks Daddy! Your the greatest fishing buddy a girl can have.