Walking in His Footsteps

"My Daddy brought me trout fishing here everyabout fly fishing and the other was just another
summer when I was a kid. I've returned everyway to catch fish, albeit more of them.
year since." The voice was a thin, leathery lookingNow it is true that something like eighty percent
rancher-cowboy with slightly graying hair who justof a fish's diet consists of nymphs and the bugs
stepped out of the woods right where I wastaken below the surface of the water, but this
about to go in.just didn't matter to me compared to the thrill of
He put down the wicker creel he was carryingtaking a fish on the surface.
and his fly rod, put his two dogs in the bed of hisI thought about how a more pragmatic thinker
beat up pickup truck, opened a cooler with somecould come to the opposite conclusion when
food for sandwiches and sat on gate of the truck.looking at the question of how you could catch
I had decided earlier that as beautiful as this creekmore fish. Joe struck me as gentle, assured and
was, there were just too many people camping,pragmatic.
fishing, dirt bike riding, and just plain hangingThe next morning as I entered the canyon
around and I was either going to leave or hike upheading upstream trying to distinguish his
the creek right here where the road left thefootsteps from the others on the bank, I realized
creek and formed a deep canyon heading off intoI was following in the footsteps of someone who
the wilderness. I figured that a couple miles ofhad done this for over fifty years. As I expected
hiking might scare off most of these other folksit only took about a mile of fishing upstream for
and be enough of a challenge to keep all but theall the other footprints to disappear save for Joe's
hardiest out.and his dogs.
As I was getting my waders on to do just thatMy insistence on dry fly fishing whenever possible
for the remaining evening hours, out of thehas left me with many fishless days, but the huge
woods steps a vision of how I would havewild native rainbow that slammed my fly in the
expected a fly fisherman to look 40 years ago.first big hole I came to assured me that that
He wasn't wearing any waders, just blue jeans towasn't going to happen today.
protect his legs from the harsh California bushesSome of my best memories of fly fishing are
and some wading boots. He had two small dogsdays with a good friend that enjoys the sport as
following him, a colt 45 strapped to his side, and amuch as I do, working our way up a small stream
classic wicker creel hanging low at his side belayingtaking turns catching fish. We would each cast
the presence of no small amount of fish. He haduntil we caught one and then the other would
the face of someone who had spent the bettertake over until he caught one. There's an intimacy
part of his life outdoors and at sixty-two lookedand camaraderie to this approach to fly fishing
fit enough to hike wherever he wanted.that I can't get any other way.
He had that ram rod straight posture that comesI felt that camaraderie with Joe this morning as I
from always working outdoors and a face andmoved up the stream with only his footprints. It
hands that fit that life. Years of fishing had shownseemed like every time I would decide to cut
him what he needed and what he didn't. On theacross the stream to get a better angle on the
midsummer days, hot like this one, you certainlynext hole there would be his footprints, having
didn't need waders. The coolness of the springmade the same decision as I did.
fed stream on your legs was a welcome reliefI couldn't help wondering, when I caught a nice
from the heat you felt while hiking upstream onrainbow in a deep pool, if Joe had any luck at the
cloudless summer California days.same spot. I loved the idea that we were two
It was six o'clock in the evening and I figured Ivery different styles of fisherman that actually
would fish upstream for a couple of hours andthought very much alike. That we were two guys
then hike out.from very different worlds that enjoyed the
Joe had that endearing central California ranchersolitude, the beauty, and the excitement that only
twang to his voice with a mix of soft spokenthis kind of "hike up the stream for five miles"
intensity, intimacy, and self assurance. You couldcan offer.
tell that the day on the stream was the kind ofI thought of this as I sat down for a little lunch
day he could appreciate again and again.and minutes later a deer stepped out of the
When he told me that he had gone in the canyonwoods about fifty feet upstream from me. It
at seven that morning and was just now comingwas one of those rare fortunate moments that
out, I reviewed my decision to just spend just aoccurred only because I happened to be sitting
couple of hours here. The review was partlyperfectly still, was downstream but downwind,
prompted by my periodic glances at his creel andand was wearing sunglasses that hid my eyes. I
guesses that he either ignored the five fish limitstayed perfectly still for the next ten minutes as
on this stream or had some very large trout inhe nervously drank from the stream, ate reeds
there. Given his lifetime of fishing on this stream, Ifrom the shore, drank more, and eventually
was inclined toward some latitude on the questionslowly sauntered back into the woods as silently
of how many fish he was taking home, but as heas he had come out. A beautiful whitetail buck
opened the creel to put the fish in the cooler, Iwas as good a lunch companion as one could ask
was amazed at the size of the trout he wasfor.
pulling out. There were only five fish, but eachThe day got hotter and dryer and I forced
beautiful native rainbow was the length of hismyself to keep drinking as I moved upstream,
lower arm.but the pools got bigger as Joe had promised, and
I was now convinced that this may well be thethe fish got bigger and wilder also.
place to spend all of the next day, as heI always see wildlife when I'm on a hiking up a
recounted how he headed upstream and didn'tstream, but today it just seemed like an endless
start fishing until he didn't see any footprints. Heparade of nature's best. With every step a bit of
kept referring to some holes that were a fewthe river or the countryside I was in put itself in
miles upstream with large trout and thefront of me. Frogs, snakes, quail, falcons, eagles,
abundance of wildlife in this canyon including bears.and tracks from deer, bobcats, and raccoons let
This explained the pistol strapped to his side andme know that I was never completely alone in
caused me to consider the same rig.this beautiful solitude.
He talked on about how the fishing had changedAs I hooked into my fifth fish that rivaled Joe's
over the years and was open with me aboutlargest, I looked over my shoulder for Joe's nod
what he fished with. When I asked him if he gotof approval, decided it wasn't just the heat
any his fish on dry flies, he just said "I only fishmaking me do this, but the feeling of taking this
with nymphs." He said it with the sureness oftrip with the guy I had only just met but felt as
someone who had been doing this for years, andconnected to as anyone I had ever fished with.
I realized that I was only four years younger thanAfter a long hot hike out, I made my last
him and might have made the determined decisionbeautiful pool a bath tub. Glad to have worn
to fish with dry flies whenever possible about theshorts today, I gave myself a dunking in the ice
same time as he had made the decision not to. Icold spring fed creek. A noticeable gasp emerged
made the decision by comparing the thrill of a fishas I realized just how cool this water really was. I
rising up to take a well presented fly off thetook off my shirt and used it to towel myself off
surface and its adrenaline producing visual to theand wondered how many times Joe had done the
other choice which was a take so subtle thatsame thing.
without a taunt line it might be indistinguishableI realized that the footsteps I had walked in were
from hitting a rock as it moved along underthe result of a lifetime of Joe's experiences like
water. To me there was no comparison; onemine today, and today they were the experience
embodied all that was important and visceralof both of us.