Traditionally on Father's Day, my Dad and I make plans to go fishing somewhere locally. Often it is fishing walleyes, occasionally trout fishing. The routine is only fitting since he introduced me to the sport many years ago.
Once again, the Dismal Spring of 2011, hampered any plans to recreate this past Sunday. In fact, my boat hadn't moved from its parking spot since last fall, when it was officially cast aside for hunting season.
Since the weather finally perked up today, very fitting on this first day of summer, Dad and I hooked up the Lund and headed to a local reservoir after work. There aren't many options of any kind right now, as the streams are still raging mad from snow melt and consistent rains.
In my haste to leave town at 5PM sharp, I neglected to grab my fly rod. While I had spinning gear in the boat-an assortment of mostly warmwater gear for fish that don't rise to tiny insects-I wasn't too pleased with myself.
For what ever reason, maybe out of sympathy, Dad wasn't using his fly rod, instead throwing a variety of small spinners toward shore. Well, someone might as well put the 5-weight to work, so I helped myself. Eventually, we found some fish, near the face of the dam that were occasionally rising. There wasn't a lot of surface action, but it helped our morale, just seeing some rainbows near the boat. With the help of a small indicator, I moved a couple of fish that liked my beadhead prince.
It was finally the summer evening that we had been waiting a long time for. A fitting end to a Father's Day that came a couple of days late.
Thanks for sharing it Dad. The sport, the day and the fly rod.