I remember fishing for trout with worms in Connecticut when I was 10 years old with my Daddy on backwoods creeks.
He caught 5 trout to my one. He was a great fisherman.

I remember a an astonishing green drake hatch on Esopus Creek in the Catskills where the river was just boiling with
rises and my Daddy hooked one right between my legs; we were laughing and shouting.

I remember bluefish on the fly off long Island NY and the viscous strikes among frenzied schools and how
dangerous it was to ger them off the hook.

I remember the biggest bass I ever caught casting a tiny spoon from our old boat with my Dad’s bamboo
fly rod on the Housatonic River. It went something like this: “REEL HIM IN! .. LET HIM RUN! .. REEL HIM IN!..
GOD..DON’T BREAK MY ROD!” as he dove under the boat.

Then I moved to Seattle to work for Boeing and discovered Cutthroat in the salt and Cohos and Kings,
and at last Steelhead in the rivers, all on the fly.

After two years of trying, the day came when I caught and released my first and biggist Seelhead ever
on a two handed rod I built with a fly I tied on the Hoh River.

Then, when I turned around to bring my Daddy out to show him some Steelhead fishing he had passed away.

Now my Son is a better steelheader than I am, he is a devotee and my Son-in-law is a casting instructor.
However, Steelheading as we knew it is fast fading away.and now my main interest is tying the classics
with our NWASFG.

Well, maybe before I die I can bring both my Son and Son-in-law to the Skeena on a last and best trip,
and I can tell them stories about fishing with my Dad.