Sometimes it isn’t about fishing. Sometimes it’s about fishing people and the culture they foster.
My alarm went off at 1:30 a.m., and I struggled to wake up. I had taken one Tylenol PM to help me sleep, but with only three hours of rest, I started doubting my decision to drive 10 hours just to go fishing.
That doubt always creeps in during those groggy moments of waking up and getting dressed, but once I hit the road, everything changes. A 5-hour Energy and several cups of coffee later, I was good to go.
This trip was last-minute. I had originally planned to fish with friends at the end of March, as we do every year, but life got in the way, and I had to cancel. Our Florida trip was also called off.
Then, out of nowhere, UPS offered voluntary layoff. I checked plane tickets and texted my wife Stac: “Want to go to Florida next week?” She was in. We booked the flight for Wednesday to Monday, leaving me with Sunday to Tuesday wide open.
What else would I do except drive to New York for a day and a half of steelhead fishing?
I reached out to a buddy who lives there, and we planned to meet Sunday at the river. I arrived at noon, quickly checked into the lodge, and got dressed to fish. As I walked down the bank to where he was supposed to be, I didn’t see him. Instead, I saw an older guy and said hi.
“Are you Kevin?” he asked.
I nodded, and he explained that my buddy had to leave early because his wife was cold, but I was welcome to fish with him. He introduced himself as George, and soon after, his friend Tony joined us.
They were both in their late 70s — an inspiration. If I stay healthy, I’ve got at least 20 more years of fishing ahead of me.
As I rigged up my rod, George hooked into a nice fish. I quickly set my gear down and reached for the net. He landed it fast, and soon. Tony was into one too.
These two had it dialed in. They let me rotate in, and I landed a steelhead, getting a quick picture before they left. By 4 p.m., they were gone, but with the new daylight saving time change, I had until at least 6:30 to fish. I hooked two more but didn’t land them.
Driving through the night like that always leaves me feeling like I’m fishing in a fog, half-there, half-gone. But I hooked a few and landed one. That alone made the drive worth it.
That night, my plan was simple: grab food at the Altmar Bar & Grill, drink some wine, tie flies, and, of course, watch COPS. It’s an ongoing joke. Somehow COPS is always on when we travel, but we don’t get it at home. I walked across the street, sat at the bar, and looked to my right.
There were George and Tony.
Earlier on the river, Tony had been talking about bourbon. Now, he offered to buy me a drink. Of course, I said yes to a bourbon on the rocks. He ordered me a double. I got my dinner to go: a bacon burger and their “Bottom of the Barrel” wings, hands down the best wings we’ve ever had.
As I waited, we talked about fishing, the fish they catch in Connecticut, and beyond.
Day Two
The next morning, my plan was to start fishing across from George and Tony. They had invited me to fish with them again, but I wanted to explore before finishing the day with them.
I woke up at 5 a.m. and tied some flies, too exhausted the night before after the drive and that double bourbon. Looking outside, I saw the sun coming up, so I got ready and walked to the river.
When I arrived, I waved to Tony and George. It wasn’t long before they were into fish again. All day long, I watched them hook and release fish.
Even though I’ve caught hundreds of steelhead, I still doubt myself when I see someone else catching and I’m not. But soon enough, I hooked a small steelhead, maybe 5 to 7 pounds. Then I landed two more in the 30- to 32-inch range.
Maybe I hooked a few others, but this trip wasn’t about the fish. Is it ever really just about the fish?
Right after landing my first one, I got a text from Tait, my oldest son.
“How’s the fishing? Crowds?”
I sent him some pictures and asked why.
“I’m on my way. Be there around noon.”
I had no idea he was coming. A nice surprise. He showed up with Aaron and Ben, two guys he works with.
I fished with them for a bit before giving up my spot so they could take over. I headed back over to fish and hang out with Tony and George, knowing they’d be leaving at 4 p.m. and I’d have their spot until dark.
When they packed up, I waved Tait and Ben over. They had been watching Tony and George hook fish all day, so they knew the spot was stacked. They hooked a few but didn’t land any.
That night, I went back to Altmar Bar & Grill for another round of wings and a burger to go. And of course, there were Tony and George.
We shared another drink and talked about the day, and about Tony coming to Maine to fish with me. Then, I headed back to my room to pack and watch COPS.
Day three
At 4 a.m., my phone rang. Half-asleep, I answered.
“This is Tony,” he said. “You gotta get up to drive home anyway.”
He wanted to tell me about a spot where Tait could fish and offered to show him the area if he needed help.
As I drove home, I thought a lot about the past day and a half. I didn’t think about the fish.
Instead, I thought about how I never once thought about problems back home. I thought about how I hope, at 77, I’ll still be making the trip to the Salmon River to fish.
I thought about how great it was to hang out with Tony and George, who were both Vietnam vets, one a Marine and the other Army, both incredibly proud of their service.
And I thought about how I got to spend half a day fishing with my oldest son.
So, was it worth getting up at 1:30 a.m. and driving 10 hours to fish?
Absolutely.
