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These guys have been the soundtrack to most fishing trips of late. Enjoy.
I had a camping trip planned with 'Roo. There was no real reason, just for the hell of it. But as it turned out, he hit 100% of his reading goal for the year, so we made it a bit of a celebration. His teacher told him a while back that he wouldn't make it. 'Roo thought that was kind of a fucked up thing to tell a little kid, so he proved her wrong. Atta' kid.
This is what he had to say about it.
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This is what I had to say about it.
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So we packed some things, and headed for the hills.
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We met up with some friends of ours. I present bored, strange, and distracted.
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We had a good time hanging out in camp.
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Ok, enough bullshit. Down to brass tacks.
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Now, while 'Roo shares his big brother's love of the angle, he lacks the stamina. After a bit of fishing, he got antsy. I figure the easiest way to ensure I never fish with teenage sons is to jam it down their throats, so when he's done, he's done. Back into jeans and sneaks, and up the trail we went. We'd hike and chat 'till we got to some fishy looking water. Then I'd find him a good spot to throw rocks, swing sticks, chase bugs, and I'd fish. This worked out well.
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Sometimes the best fishing buddy you could ever want doesn't even have to fish.
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I got to hear him sing semi-inappropriate Monty Python songs.
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And he said some pretty funny shit.
Dad-It'd be pretty sweet to be a fish and hang out in cool rivers and eat bugs and hang out all day, doncha think?
Kid-Yeah, no school.
So by now you're probably guessing that based on the conspicuous lack of fish pix, this is one of those "I got skunked, but we had a great time, so fuck it" threads. Well dear readers, it nearly was. There weren't any bugs under the rocks that I looked under, some sporadic mayfly sightings, but not much, so I was in my "uhhhhh, I dunno" mode. The usual suspects when there isn't any Latin going on. Stones, soft hackles, copper johns, terrestrials tight to the bank, sculpins, ect. I had basically chalked it up to a great hike on a perfect day while carrying an expensive stick. My kid had a killer time, and I did too, so the day was in the "win" column for sure. We got back to the parking lot after a nice 5 mile hike/skunking. 'Roo wanted to dink around in the river some more, so he changed into shorts, and I ditched my waders. I shut the trunk and started walking away. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllll, I'll bring the rod, y'know. Just in case. We walked along near camp for a bit, and I saw a big log, pool, seam, deal happening. So I dropped a black conehead woolly bugger in. I'm walking along the log, casting upstream, high sticking so that only the leader is in the water. Bug goes straight down, and I start to swing. I did this a few times and, wham. Helooooooooooooo Dolly! (I know, it's a Bull, but hello Bull doesn't have the same ring to it) It really doesn't take much to make me happy. I know it wasn't big, but it was my first Bull, and it was beautiful. And I fucked the pictures up pretty badly, because I didn't want to mess with my new friend too much.
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After spending a little more time trying to make lightning strike twice, we hit the road. We hit a few likely hot spots on the way out, and I missed 2 huge strikes in spectacular fashion. We had been at one spot for a while, and 'Roo was throwing rocks. I was turning around to tell him to quit it, while reeling in my small dry fly, and sumthin biiiiiiiiig came up and smacked the shit out of it.
Ham fisted angler-Holy crap, did you just see that???????
Ham fisted angler's smartassed son-Yeah dad. You totally missed it.
Go figure. all that time mending, and they hit the dry when it's throwing wake like a jet-ski. Fucking fish.
The time had come to be gone, so we hit the road. A tired, happy kid and a dad who is amazed by how good life can be if you just let it. I am lucky beyond words to have a kid like mine to spend time with. (let alone 2. Matty had his last soccer game and couldn't make the trip.) I don't take it for granted for a single second. Family, health, this amazing place we live. None of it. Ever.
Thanks for looking!!!!
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I had a camping trip planned with 'Roo. There was no real reason, just for the hell of it. But as it turned out, he hit 100% of his reading goal for the year, so we made it a bit of a celebration. His teacher told him a while back that he wouldn't make it. 'Roo thought that was kind of a fucked up thing to tell a little kid, so he proved her wrong. Atta' kid.
This is what he had to say about it.
This is what I had to say about it.
So we packed some things, and headed for the hills.
We met up with some friends of ours. I present bored, strange, and distracted.
We had a good time hanging out in camp.
Ok, enough bullshit. Down to brass tacks.
Now, while 'Roo shares his big brother's love of the angle, he lacks the stamina. After a bit of fishing, he got antsy. I figure the easiest way to ensure I never fish with teenage sons is to jam it down their throats, so when he's done, he's done. Back into jeans and sneaks, and up the trail we went. We'd hike and chat 'till we got to some fishy looking water. Then I'd find him a good spot to throw rocks, swing sticks, chase bugs, and I'd fish. This worked out well.
Sometimes the best fishing buddy you could ever want doesn't even have to fish.
I got to hear him sing semi-inappropriate Monty Python songs.
And he said some pretty funny shit.
Dad-It'd be pretty sweet to be a fish and hang out in cool rivers and eat bugs and hang out all day, doncha think?
Kid-Yeah, no school.
So by now you're probably guessing that based on the conspicuous lack of fish pix, this is one of those "I got skunked, but we had a great time, so fuck it" threads. Well dear readers, it nearly was. There weren't any bugs under the rocks that I looked under, some sporadic mayfly sightings, but not much, so I was in my "uhhhhh, I dunno" mode. The usual suspects when there isn't any Latin going on. Stones, soft hackles, copper johns, terrestrials tight to the bank, sculpins, ect. I had basically chalked it up to a great hike on a perfect day while carrying an expensive stick. My kid had a killer time, and I did too, so the day was in the "win" column for sure. We got back to the parking lot after a nice 5 mile hike/skunking. 'Roo wanted to dink around in the river some more, so he changed into shorts, and I ditched my waders. I shut the trunk and started walking away. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllll, I'll bring the rod, y'know. Just in case. We walked along near camp for a bit, and I saw a big log, pool, seam, deal happening. So I dropped a black conehead woolly bugger in. I'm walking along the log, casting upstream, high sticking so that only the leader is in the water. Bug goes straight down, and I start to swing. I did this a few times and, wham. Helooooooooooooo Dolly! (I know, it's a Bull, but hello Bull doesn't have the same ring to it) It really doesn't take much to make me happy. I know it wasn't big, but it was my first Bull, and it was beautiful. And I fucked the pictures up pretty badly, because I didn't want to mess with my new friend too much.
After spending a little more time trying to make lightning strike twice, we hit the road. We hit a few likely hot spots on the way out, and I missed 2 huge strikes in spectacular fashion. We had been at one spot for a while, and 'Roo was throwing rocks. I was turning around to tell him to quit it, while reeling in my small dry fly, and sumthin biiiiiiiiig came up and smacked the shit out of it.
Ham fisted angler-Holy crap, did you just see that???????
Ham fisted angler's smartassed son-Yeah dad. You totally missed it.
Go figure. all that time mending, and they hit the dry when it's throwing wake like a jet-ski. Fucking fish.
The time had come to be gone, so we hit the road. A tired, happy kid and a dad who is amazed by how good life can be if you just let it. I am lucky beyond words to have a kid like mine to spend time with. (let alone 2. Matty had his last soccer game and couldn't make the trip.) I don't take it for granted for a single second. Family, health, this amazing place we live. None of it. Ever.
Thanks for looking!!!!
