When I returned from Iraq, my daughter asked me to teach her to fly fish. We decided to build a rod. I picked a 7'6" 4wt blank and she picked pearl wraps with rose tags, since we could not find a pink blank. We got the rod built and then planned a trip to use it.

It was going to be an overnight trip, just she and I fishing. We took off and it was HOT, really hot, so I picked a stretch of catch and release stream that was well under the canopy and the water was not too bad. That stretch does not have many fish, but they are almost all brookies, same as it was before the Europeans showed up here. She did not like that it was a lot of dabbling water and not much casting, but tickled with a couple scrappy fish on dries.

Then we decided to try a kids only pond that was only a couple miles away and had room for casting. Now prior to the trip I had talked to her about caring for her rod and treating it with TLC. We get in the car and since it is a quick trip, I slide the rods in assembled. We start down the road and it is dusty, so I close my window and turn my 8 foot 5wt into a 7'9" 8wt. My daughter got a laugh out of that.

I slipped off the rock I'd been standing on and twisted my knee, weakened long ago in a goat wrasslin' incident.We got to the kids pond and I helped her get started and then she said she wanted me to "go away and let her do it her self." I went for a short stroll in the woods and wandered down the the creek that came out of the pond. There were fish rising, so I turned to go back and get my rod. In doing so, I slipped off the rock I'd been standing on and twisted my knee, weakened long ago in a goat wrasslin' incident. That then caused me to sit down in the creek and get wet to the waist. I crawled back up the bank, checked on my daughter, who missed the whole incident and got my spare rod rigged.

I told my daughter where I was going (about 50 yards from her) and she just gave me the shrug and ignored my casting advice. She seemed to be having a good time, which was all I wanted right now. I did not want to turn her off with too much "instruction." I had a #16 EHC above a #16 bead-head hare's ear. On the first cast, I saw a flash, but missed the fish. I looked up and my daughter was watching me. I cast again and hooked up, The fish jumped out of the water, flashing in the sun and my daughter cheered for me. I quickly landed a 11" Atlantic Salmon smolt. At first i thought it was a brown, then realized what I had. A first for me.

We were hungry, so we packed up (disassembled the rods this time) and headed for the campsite. I got thing going for dinner (mac-n-cheese with lil smokies) and then pitched the tent. Then I laid a fire. We had a pretty nice camp. I served up dinner and as we ate I noticed the wind picked up and the clouds building in the west. The forcast had said there would be isolated thunderstorms. That was at 6 in the morning. What I'd missed while fishing was that it had changed to severe thunderstorms, statewide. I moved the Jeep upwind of the tent to act as a bit of a break and we got ready to hunker down for the night.

We were in a two man tent, which was just right for the two of us. She got into her bag and asked me if we were safe. I assured her we were. Then the wind really picked up (later I would learn there were gusts over 60mph) and the trees began to shed limbs. Then came the first drops of rain, interspersed with some small hail. The wind was driving the rain so hard it came sideways into the tent, through the fly. It was so loud with the wind and rain on the tent that we had to yell to each other. Lightening was flashing all around, and the thunder crashes were so close behind the bolts that there was hardly any delay. By now she was crying and I was getting my shoes on to get us the hell out of there. I carried her to the passenger seat and began to throw stuff into the back of the jeep. The night before I had secured most of the gear and only had to get the tent down. I just collasped the poles and threw the whole mess into the back. The rain had really begun hammering down and I was soaked. I had put a dry shirt in the front seat when I began packing and so I stripped off the wet one and got in to put the dry one on. We started home and the road was underwater, fouled with broken branches. We reached higher ground and the road was now covered with frogs, dozens of them hopping down the center of the road. I had the wipers on high and could still barely see through the water pouring down the windshield. My daughter assured Mom that we were fine and that Dad was driving extra careful and had only said one bad word.

We got to the main road and it was not as littered with branches. I still kept an eye for downed trees and powerlines as we made our way home. It is a 45 minute drive, normally, but took us twice as long. My girl had called Mom while I was packing and she called us enroute wondering what was taking so long and what was I subjecting her baby to. My daughter assured Mom that we were fine and that Dad was driving extra careful and had only said one bad word.

We got home just before midnight and my exhausted daughter crawled into bed. As I tucked her in, she said she wanted to go again, but only when the weather was nicer.

I was one fly rod shorter for the trip, despite my safety lecture, but had gained a fishing partner for life.

| 2007.02.08 |