Picking out friends to fish wild water with is a bit like choosing your Survivor "tribe." These are people you know won't crack a joke when you slip off a rock or criticize your casting when you get hung in a laurel. They might even lend you a hand when bouldering up a waterfall. You know this because they will also slip, get stuck, and need a hand, as most of us do. Your friends will get to see you in all your embarrassing glory, from the funny dances you perform to try and stay in the upright position to your squatting positions, usually behind a large rock or tree.
They'll see every misstep up close. You'll share snacks and bourbon, stories and runs, and all the embarrassing moments in between.
Here's To You, Ma!
She spends her life in a fifth wheel taking care of three dogs, a cat, and my dad traveling the country.
She’s swapped out designer clothes for a Piggly Wiggly hoodie.
She thinks getting up at eight is way too early.
Her money is now spent on adventure gear and at every new restaurant she comes across.
Wine is a precious commodity.
I Got Called Out
So, I got called out, and I totally deserved it.
As some of you may remember from a few months ago in my A House Divided, Again post the past two weekends were filled with meeting fellow anglers. It's been a busy few weeks and I was using that as an excuse for my lack of posts.
Read moreThe Next Valley Over
"The majority of anglers who travel to fish are by nature either pastoralists or nomads."
-Charles Gaines
Meaning that while we're all there for the same reason, you've got those that are happy to stay in the "designated" waters and those that are always looking towards The Next Valley Over.
Read moreWild
The Reason
A few weeks ago I was digging around in my desk in search of a memory card or pen or something relatively unimportant. I came across a newspaper clipping of an obituary from a few years back. It was for my father's best friend, Jack.
Jack was a carpenter and fisherman. He was a worm dunker, but I try not to hold that against him, and primarily had no interest in mountain fishing, but was much more fond of salt water. Every year Jack would migrate down to Florida for the winter and spend his time in a boat or kayak with a rod in his hand. I remember when we found out that Jack was sick. He decided that it wasn't time to waste his life in a hospital, but to spend it with the people he loved, fishing. And, that's exactly what he did.