|My Dad, me, and the Sage|
After a decade of riding motorcycles I sold mine, and then my husband sold his Ultra Classic. I had to find something to do again. Staying indoors or in town was not an option. There in the tube was that Sage rod. And I took it out one day and started getting it together and took a trip to the streams I had rode by on my motorcycle. What a change in perspective. Yes, Harley's are loud on the road next to the Big Thompson, but I kind of enjoy it when a dozen go by. They always wave, and I back to them. I wonder if they are wishing they are doing what I am doing, and thinking about changing up their day?
|Big Thompson on a Fall Trip|
The cost to me in waiting so long to take up the fly rod again has been enormous. I have had to drop into fly shops all over Colorado, asking for help, advice, hearing tips and stories, it has been so much fun. And I have made so many friends in these shops. I have had to do crash courses on mending line, changing flies, finding good fly tiers, reading river reports at 10:00 at night, and basically wishing I was not diving into fly fishing now, but 20 years ago when I was much younger.
I read that my life expectancy is only so long, and I thought at this age I would be getting ready to really enjoy life, then the unexpected pops up, I get a read flag that I have a little heart issue, it wants to beat too fast sometimes, and for a year the idea that I cannot hike anymore, run along the bank trying to net a trout, just drives my summer. I had a little surgery this year, during that my heart stopped five times, I came home with a little paddle mark on my chest. Now for me, that was a game changer! I need to get going on what I want to do while I can! So needless to say, I was gone just about every weekend this last year, from about April to early October, on the water.
For all of us, at someday, we will run out of days to wade the waters. The image at the end of River Runs Through It is embedded on my brain, an old old man threading a dry fly with old old hands, I want to be him....
I am thankful that my husband will fish with me, that he likes fishing, although he had never fly fished before he met me. Of course I bought him a nice Ross reel and rod, if he doesn't have good equipment fishing is just not fun, one has to catch a fish to make it worth the time, in his mind anyway. So Christmas is fun here.
And he laughs because when I say on a Thursday..."I am thinkin'....." he knows it is going to be trip to water, somewhere. And he most often says "I'm in..." When he is not wanting to fish, I just go alone. The need to be in water is much stronger for me than for him. I am all right with that. Just a bit more careful on how far back I go, how fast water is to cross, are there moose or bear tracks around, a bit more cautious. For me, just standing in Glacier Creek and hearing the sound, feeling the sun on my face, the scent of pine in the air, the little bugs over the water, that is enough. To catch a brookie is icing on the cake.
I have already been dropping hints, yesterday I said "maybe next weekend we go up to Estes, watch the Laramie Parade of Lights, spend the night, dress in layers the next day, go down the canyon, and fish our little spots on the stream, water is low now, and there are fish there, or maybe we can go to the visitor center where they were leaping out of the water into the falls in September, remember? Sure those were stockers, but by now they are a little bit wild..." Maybe?
He said "I'm in".....