It was a beautiful summer morning as I crawled out of my sleeping bag. I had been waiting a long time to take a week-long camping trip with my two sons, ten and seven years old at the time. It was a bright, clear sunshiny morning. The boys were still sleeping as I fixed breakfast and coffee on the old dual-burner Coleman stove. I was enjoying the early morning sounds of leaves rustling in the trees when the boys emerged from the arms of Morpheus.
“Hi, Dad”, they both said, “what’s for breakfast?" “Eggs with corned-beef hash and good old light bread”, I replied. They both thought that sounded like a pretty dad gum good feed, even if Dad thought of it. After we finished eating breakfast and feeding the birds, we started off on our day of fishing (that was the whole purpose of this camping trip.)
We put our spinning rods in the back of the old Dodge pick’m-up truck and headed out, looking for water to be fished (this was before we started fly-fishing.) We spent a couple hours hitting some lakes around the area without much luck. In fact, we were doing so badly the fish were rolling over and slapping their tummies with their fins laughing at us! About noon we decided it was time for a lunch break. We headed to a little town about 20 minutes away from where we'd camped, stopping at the local burger shop to fuel up for the afternoon's campaign. Cheeseburgers, fries and soda pop were a big seller that afternoon- at least with the Browning Boys!
While we were eating the cook asked us, “what are you all doing around town.” “We're camping and fishing, but not having much success at the fishing part.” He told us of a reservoir called Chalk Creek Reservoir and told us that Pistol Pete flies did very well there. After he explained what a Pistol Pete fly was we thanked him, went off to find some of these super-duper flies and this storied body of water.
We found a little store in this same town that carried a bit of everything, including some fishing supplies. We found their Pistol Pete fly stash, picked out a colorful assortment and dashed off to tackle the infamous Chalk Creek Reservoir. Now, when I’m told a body of water is a reservoir I expect it to be a good sized body of water…not this one. Apparently their definition and my definition aren't anywhere near the same. This body of water was so small (how small was it? you couldn’t skip a rock on it because you would hit a person on the other side!)
After looking at the crowd we walked down to the lake and spoke with several people, feeling out how things were going and what was working. After a bit we headed back to the truck to get our gear to do some fishing. We grabbed our stuff and headed back to the reservoir. My oldest got "first fish" (a trout; nothing big but hey, it’s a fish), then another and another. Then my youngest starts getting hits and missing them. But, they are having a blast and not bothering anyone, so I slip back behind them to the closest picnic table and I sit there, watching them and just taking in the pleasure of being with them.
After a little bit the action slowed down and my oldest son noticed an older gentleman who was still catching fish (and releasing them.) He asked what I thought the man might be using and I replied “I don’t know but I’m sure if you ask him he'll tell you.” My son approached the man and spoke with him for 10 or 15 minutes. When he came back he said “he's using that Pistol Pete fly but he modified it some.” The man also gave my son a couple of them to try out. Well, needless to say the two boys were back onto the fish again and just having a ball. By now my youngest was getting tired of standing so he found a boulder to sit on and still cast and retrieve. The older gentleman soon packed up his gear to leave and stopped by where I was sitting watching my sons. He asked “is that your son that came to talk to me?" “Yes, he's my oldest; he's ten."
The man said “your son has to be one of the most polite young men that I have seen or talked to in a number of years.” I thanked him, and after a bit more chit-chat he headed off to his car. It makes a parent proud when a total stranger says that about one of their kids. After a few more minutes my oldest came to the picnic table and sat down with me and said “the fish have quit biting”; I asked him why and he spouted “because Patrick is down there on his rock splashing his feet in the water and singing.” I decided to walk down to where Patrick was and sure enough, that's what the boy was doing. He looked at me straight-faced and asked “why aren’t the fish biting, Dad?” I said “because there is a little boy sitting on a rock splashing his feet in the water.” With the same straight face he said “oh, really.”
That was one of the best fishing trips I have ever taken and I sure did enjoy my memories from that trip.
And the splashing the feet in the water is something that is always talked and laughed about.
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