When I was in my early 20’s, I lived in Virginia.  I was on a visit “home”, and my dad and a dear friend of his were going fly fishing behind the house.  (Being raised on a trout stream is yet another story!)  They asked me if I wanted to join them.  At that point, I had better things to do than fish, but enjoyed being outside, so agreed that a walk along the stream would be nice.

Even though it was many years ago, I vividly remember walking along the bank while they waded the water.  The stream rolled gently by, so the water was quiet, allowing us to chatter while they fished.  I had seen my dad fish many times.  I had fished with him all of my life, starting at about 5 years of age when he first put a rod in my hand and taught me to trick fish with corn kernels and worms.  But I had never really watched him fly fish.

I watched as Light Cahill mayflies did their up-and-down dance just along the top of the water.  I watched the rhythmic casting of the fly rods.  I watched as the men cast the fly on the line back and forth, back and forth, then allowed it to gently drop to the surface of the water… and drift. 

SPLASH!

A brown trout came tearing to the surface of the water, sucking the presented dry fly into its mouth, and greedily turned its head down for a run.  The rod bent, the line was tight, and after a few moments, the gorgeous trout with bold spots and bright gold belly was brought to hand, admired, and released gently back into the water. 

I was hooked.

Fast forward through the years. 

I learned to tie flies.  I became addicted to finding the right materials, the best tools, books and videos, and have a room full of my addiction to show for it!  I have been blessed to share my passion with others through demonstration circuits across the globe.  I have developed an amazing network of people who, once friends, are now my fly fishing family. Life as not always allowed me to get out and fish. 

I continue to tie flies.  When I sit at the bench and lash fur and feather to hook, it sends me back to that one day on the stream. 

This has been the link to my father.  This is the passion we both shared.  I tied his flies, we fished, we joked.  We connected.  He has been gone nine years now, but he is still with me.

I will continue to embrace my passion for fly fishing, in all its facets… and I will remember.