Fly Fishing with Family & Friends

With a new heart and renewed energy I’m picking up nostalgic activities like fly-fishing, which has been in my family for generations. Mom used to drive my brothers and me up the canyon after elementary school or early Saturday mornings so we could drop a line in the water while she read in the car. I don't remember if we caught fish, but I remember being together.

There’s something magical about being away from civilization in the early morning hours shortly before the sun pops over the mountain. The air is fresh and pristine. It’s quiet except for the light sounds of chirping birds, rippling water, rustling wind, and occasional cars driving by on the distant road. Eventually the sun shows it’s face as the sunbeams dance on the river's crust.

All of this beauty connects me to memories of past fishing trips with family and friends, some of which have crossed over to the other side to be with the one who created all of this beauty for us to enjoy.

I’m a descendant of pioneers, people who journeyed west to settle in uncharted territory and worship God according to their newfound religion. My ancestors drove their wagons led by a team of oxen or they themselves pulled a handcart with all their belongings. The path was unpaved and rough. Along the way they found their food as they fished the streams and rivers.

One such pioneer was Wilford Woodruff who wrote about his experience in 1847. He said, "The man at the fort said there were but very few trout in the streams, and a good many of the brethren were already at the creeks with their rods & lines trying their skill baiting with fresh meat & grass hoppers, but no one seemed to catch any.

"I went & flung my fly onto the [brook] and it being the first time that I ever tried the artificial fly in America, or ever saw it tried, I watched it as it floated upon the water with as much intense interest as Benjamin Franklin did his kite when he tried to draw lightning from the skies. And as Franklin receive great joy when he saw electricity or lightning descend on his kite string, in like manner was I highly gratified when I saw the nimble trout dart my fly hook himself & run away with the line but I soon worried him out & drew him to shore."

Photo: My cousin Tyler holding a Steelhead trout on our trip to Salmon, Idaho. We've been fishing together since we were kids.