A trip with the "boys"

The following is a page from my "2011 Fishing Journal": June the 27th marked the first of 4 days with the boys on the water. Chase was home on leave from Camp Pendleton, so he, Ben and I went north for some trout fishing. Ever notice that going North for almost anything is better than going South? Anyway, the goal was to teach them the skill of fly fishing and inland trout was our primary target (we brought the spin tackle as a backup). If you have ever fly fished for anything you hoped to have for dinner, you know why you need a back up plan. We ended up using both; landing numerous nice bass, a couple pike, countless bluegills and small to medium trout.

We didn’t count the bass and gills, but we caught a total of 30 trout. In correlation to our experience: I caught 17, Chase caught 8, and Ben caught 5. I was very proud of the boys, as they really had to stick with it to fish for trout, when gills and bass were so numerous and easy to catch. They were highly motivated to catch their elusive quarry, and their perseverance paid off. On the water, in the camp and navigating cross country to a wilderness lake, we made some memories those few days in the tic filled North woods. One morning in particular stands out in my mind. It was day three. I woke early, about 4:30am, to the to the wailing, yodeling and tremolos of a pair of Loons.

As dawn came the lake was covered with mist, and smooth as glass. I woke the boys, and after they warmed by the fire, they went out in the canoe to try again for the finicky trout. I heard Chase announce to Ben “Today we’re gong to get you a trout Benner”. Though he had worked hard, and had lost one, he hadn't boated any in two whole days of fishing. The campsite was high on a hill overlooking the lake, and I could see them working around the lake through the fog. The still waters magnified their voices, and though far away and above, I could hear their every word. I sat by the fire, listening…taking in the sites and sounds. At first it was almost like spying; sneaking up on their canoe from a quarter mile away. But, then the individual words lost their meaning.

I listened to the tones in their conversation; serious, then laughing, then the glee mixed with the important business of netting each other’s fish. The sound of my boys, who are now more man than boy, sharing something good, on the water, was like music in my ears. Their work was frequently interrupted by the excitement and joy of catching trout…one after another. On second thought they were not sharing something good…they were sharing something great. It’s easy to be a sibling, and you can genetically be called a brother, but what I was listening to was brotherhood. I sat near the fire, sipping my coffee, listening….soaking it in.