Family-Outdoors

We wade fished an Ozark river last Friday evening. My youngest son, who is sixteen years old was my fishing partner. The river has a moderate flow but is really pretty tame overall, and this will be important to the theme of this story. Of course any river has its hidden perils and one should exercise a degree of caution when entering their domain. Naturally, one should have some basic skills for their environment, perhaps the most important being a good swimmer. The fishing was quite slow as the river was running pretty strong for this particular stretch and was heavily silted. We worked our way down stream, leap frogging one another as we tried one hole after another. While my son is an excellent swimmer and fisherman, his experience level in reading rivers is not great. It occurred to me to bark orders to him about where to cross, to take each step slowly and test ahead for holes over his head, and not to get in so deep that the current would sweep him off his feet. Instead,...

As the car crawls down the old, dusty road, I am filled with anticipation. Around the next corner, I will be able to see the stream. There it is. A ghost-like fog hangs over the clear, rushing water. As I leave the car and enter the fresh, crisp world of a spring day, I have a feeling this is going just what I need to get my mind back in a position to face the world at large. I slip my waders on, rig my rod, and begin the short walk to the stream. When I arrive, I reach down and put my hand in the stream. Yes, this is the cold, clean water that I have come to know and love. I quietly wade upstream a few hundred steps, until I reach a pool of beauty beyond describing. A fast riffle rushes in at the top, and the water becomes slow, deep, and a perfect hangout for an elusive wild rainbow. I take a few casts into the pool with no result. Then on the next cast, I feel the sharp pull of a trout. Image via Wikipedia The fish takes a hard run to the other side of the pool. Then it takes the ai...