Finally, Gone Fishin'

Finally, found a small stream where the flows were down enough to wade, the fishing regulations allowed me to fish, and I did!  Caught (and released) some gorgeous cutthroat trout.  And I feel oh-so much better.  Unfortunately, where I was fishing was too close to a road for me to feel comfortable allowing the "girls" to run amok.  So they didn't go, an unusual event in my household.

But when I explained to them that I really really needed to fish, they understood.  I have a sneaking suspicion, however, if I try to sneak away a second time I won't get away with it.  Nothing can keep a lab from a river.

The fishing reminded me of my friend Dave Lewis.  Dave died two years ago, the anniversary of his death is coming up.  He lived the life of a trout master, making beautiful fly rods for a living after he retired from years of teaching kids "shop" (remember, where we taught kids how to make things?).  He spent winters and springs in Virginia and summers and falls in Montana, scouring the countryside for small streams to fish.  So as I was casting, I thought of him.  He would probably smile at the thought of fishing so close to a road, but then love the beauty of the ability to get away....I miss Dave's poetry of his heart that he shared, his ability to defend his position in a good fight but then reflect and be willing to admit if he believed he was wrong.  He was a gentleman in every sense of the word.

So my fishing on Saturday was an afternoon with Dave.  Couldn't have been better.

Murphy/s Day.