Garden season was another hit and kept everyone (mostly me) busy with things to plant, weed, water, pick and harvest. The kids were best with planting and then harvesting. lol. Everything in the middle was pretty boring and I get that. The swales and perennial trees and bushes really did well and the kids loved munching on the berries and cherries. The garden did well and I will look to expand the footprint. Its a lot of work right now, but the kids are really starting to get it.
This marked the 3rd year in a row back to Colorado for a chance at something I personally set out to do, which was to harvest a DIY bull elk with a bow on public lands. There are certainly easier (and more expensive) methods to kill an elk and even a trophy elk. But, it’s always been about the challenge and the process for me. This included the absolute utter heartbreak of a previous season by coming so close and losing a trophy 6x6 bull. That experience was something that haunted me and drove me to put in 10X the effort this year in preparation and calling practice to get really good. In many ways, elk hunting in Colorado has changed my lifestyle over the past several years and its been all positive.
This year we decided on a targeted rut hunt the last ten days of the Colorado season. The full moon was peaking in the middle of September, which meant that once we arrived, it was going to get darker and darker with each passing night. From our camp location, we made it possible to hunt two different OTC units, which we had put extensive time learning the past couple seasons.
The hunt started off about as fast as possible with a spot and stalk mule deer that was still in full velvet. Jeremy was the only guy to draw a mule deer tag and we weren’t sure how this was going to play into the elk hunt. But, we have always run into great bucks around these units in elk season and always wished someone had a tag. This was a perfect way to start us off as the monkey was finally off our backs and even if we struck out on elk again, we weren’t going home with an empty cooler. We also ate good at camp! Spirits were high for sure.
After a best-case start, we quickly switched gears into elk mode. On our 3rd morning, we hit one of those magical times that I’ve read about, but never witnessed myself. Starting about 5:00 am, every single bull in the woods was bugling. They were all somewhat together in this valley and our best guess was maybe 6-10 different bulls. There were so many bulls we literally didn’t know what to do. Our thermals were going to push into this canyon, so we did the opposite of what we normally do. We waited. We waited until all the bulls headed towards their bedding area. One-by-one we could hear them slowly meandering up various draws towards their intended location. We waited until we heard the last bull drifting up the ridge and without the herd present, we quickly dropped into the draw and set up.
It was just starting to get light and I let out a locator bugle right where the party was going on 30 minutes earlier. Only I was the new bull and not accounted for in their census. I gave one more bugle and some chuckles and could hear elk moving towards us in the dark timber. I had one directly behind me when i heard a ‘THWAAACK!’ and here came Jeremy running down the logging trail fist pumping hysterically and hyperventilating. I yelled for him to sit down, but he ran another 15 yards before he finally understood my plead. The elk that were directly behind me were long gone and I could turn my attention and give my friend his just excitement.
The track job turned out to be pretty nerve-wracking when all we found was an arrow nock and zero blood. And I mean nothing. After, what felt like an hour of searching Jeremy started screaming again ‘Big bull! Big bull down, big bull down. I got a big bull down’ And then the real excitement kicked in and never stopped for the next 72 hours.
He had heart-shot that bull, but the arrow lodged in the far side of the shoulder and never exited. That bull ran 75 yards and died almost instantly and he never bled for probably 70 yards. It was wild. But, here we were with the biggest animal I’ve ever seen down in the woods and the real work began. It was an amazing morning and one that will never be forgotten.
And the celebration back at camp continued. The PA boys were on the board in a big way and the rest of the team hadn’t even made it into camp yet. Team NC was going to arrive in two days, followed by the Hodge who was flying back from Kazahkstan, where he coached for Team USA Wrestling team at the 2019 World Championships.
Its hard to describe the energy that Hodge, aka the Billy Goat, brings into camp. But to put into perspective, he flew a combined 30 hours of travel (and jet lag) from the other side of the world. His buddy, Pat, picked him up from Denver airport at 10 pm…they drove 7 hours through the night arriving at the trail head around 4 am and then he put solid 12 mile hunt in the morning before heading back to camp. I saw him later that evening I actually caught him yawn once before he chugged a Monster energy drink and then heading back out to hunt that evening.
After a successfully tagging out in the first 3 days, Jeremy graduated to camp cook; a job he really excelled at. He would go out and scout in the morning for the team and then head to town to cook up one of the best camp meals you could possibly imagine. Every single night was a 5-Star recipe. And one day we came back to about a month of cut firewood. It was awesome!
For the rest of us it was a grind and all work. Nick and I became a team and hunted super hard getting into elk on multiple occasions and Nick almost got a shot on a 5 x 5 one random morning. On day 7, we had an amazing evening with a gnarly lip bawling bull that was came in to 80 yards, but our winds swirled and his cows didn’t like the scene, so his bugles became more distant as he slowly faded away from us. The next morning we dove in right where we heard him last thinking he would be working his way back up onto the ridge. At about 730 we got our first answer bugle of the morning. We quickly cut the distance and bugled again to confirm real interest. After cutting the distance again to withing 150 yards, we started raking aggressively, which prompted his temperature to rise. After cutting our distance two more times, we stopped at about 100 yards, where some aggressive grunts was all it took to get that bull to turn and start coming. He stopped at 35 yards in a meadow and laid out one massive challenge bugle and we sat tight. The silence killed that bull as he couldn’t take it anymore and came charging down into the woods where we waited. He was cruising by me at 13 yards when I loosened my arrow and hit direct mid mass. Last year’s shoulder-blade nightmare had me avoiding that shoulder like the plaque and the fact he was moving pretty quickly had me much further back than I wanted. But that 462 grain arrow did its job and went through him like butter. The rest was up to the hunting Gods. I didn’t feel very good about the shot, so we backed out and waited. And with Nick trying to fill his tag, we started hunting again and planned to give this bull 4-5 hours.
The rest of this day turned into chasing another really big bull and putting on another 5-6 miles before heading back to track my bull. The blood sign was not great and I was not feeling great. But, ultimately a strong wind blew his scent down the hill and I could literally smell him. I walked in the direction of the smell and saw my bull laying in some pines maybe 150 yards from where I loosened my arrow. Success finally! And by far the best hunting experience I could have had and with my cousin, who was probably happier for me than I was.
The rest of the week Nick chased bulls with Hodge, which wasn’t a bad draw to be hunting with a world champion elk caller on your first hunt. Zack and Brad dove back in deep and put in the work, but kept running in more hunters the deeper they went. Finally, Jeremy and I cut meat and drank beer at camp. and have no doubt this was work. Hodge and Nick got into them for sure and Hodge, aka the Billy Goat, didn’t disappoint. While I wasn’t there, I could tell through the excitement in Nick’s voice what he had experienced. Multiple times, Hodge had them on a string including a giant herd bull probably pushing 350+ within 50-60 yards without getting that clear shot.
The hunt was amazing and our best year yet. Later that week after we left, Hodge got it done on the second to last day dropping a 5 x 5 bull. His streak continued.
We made the long 28 hour drive home, but this year the coolers were filled to the brim with meat. A little dry ice and we were good. Elk will be on the the menu for the whole year until we get back at it in 2020.
Beach week is probably one of my favorite weeks of the year to spend with the family in North Carolina. The fishing has evolved for me over the 15 years we’ve been coming here. I’ve done plenty of surf casting with the fly rod for reds and trout and have ventured into the spartina backwaters on kayaks. But, as the kids have taken to fishing, I’ve been able to slow it down some and focus on doing some simple pier fishing for spots; essentially the equivalent to bluegills in the bass pond. It’s fun for the kids and nice to spend the time. Of course one rod will always be hooked with a carolina-rigged mud minnow in case that red or flounder comes cruising by us. This summer Jack-Bo caught a black drum, which was pretty cool. I didn’t even know what it was, but it put up a great little fight for Jack. Next year, I think we try to rent the boat. The kids will be ready!
We hit our favorite little wild trout stream in Virginia for a family hike and to cast some dry flies. This stream is so unique with all the waterfalls surrounded by boardwalks and steel structuring that was decades old. The kids were rocking their recently Bo Nickal-signed Penn State shirts - probably not the most stealthy attire, but it worked. The kids all got to reel in some little wild rainbows and they LOVED watching the ‘eats’! It wont be long until they are casting themselves and then I can sit back and just bring the camera.
This little mountain bass pond is starting to feel more and more familiar and a definite highlight of the weekend. This was our 3rd family reunion (every other year) and thanks to Google Maps, we found this small mountain pond tucked about 1/2 mile from the house in the middle of the forest . It’s about as much of a guarantee as you can get in fishing, which is the #1 criteria for kid fishing. The kids take it serious and, with a little patience on the bobber, can set hooks now and pretty much do the whole thing! Those the don’t have a rod in hand switch between foraging for the neighboring blackberries and playing with the worms, in no particular order. It’s a classic outing and gets better with each trip.
Doubled up!
The annual Great Viking Campout took us to Tennessee this year. It was Tepper’s year and he delivered on a great call for fly fishing the Watauga River. The Watuaga and South Holston has been on my hit list for years, so teaming this up with my high school buddies felt like a double bonus in so many ways. And with a crazy busy work / family schedule, this June trip was my first real time to wet a line this year. The best part was that we camped right on the river and with a little tree trimming, I was able to string a hammock up right on the bank. So, even when i wasn’t fishing, I was within a stone’s throw of my happy place.
I love this camping trip and the energy that everyone brings for the weekend. We have a pretty good balance of games, adventures, competitions, campfire bullshitting and general life catch up. Everyone grew up competing in some sport and and this weekend seems to pick right back up where we left off almost 20 years ago. Polish horseshoes, cornhole, washers, disc golf, you name it and we’ll probably play it.
My first lesson of the Watauga was that this Tennessee Valley Authority river is true to its reputation of predictable and schedule dam releases. This pictures below show the before and then the same exact spot 20-30 minutes later. It happens fast and I can definitely attest to the fact that its nearly impossible to safely wade over top of the moon crater structure that is evident on the bank.
The main event for this year’s trip was the float trip. We hired 3 guides to take up down the river. This was the entire crew’s first time fly fishing, so it was a great place to learn and get on some fish. 2 of the 3 guides were really good and a couple of the new guys boated close to 20 fish on their first trip out. Nymphing was the name of the game, which i do enjoy. But, I was a little bummed that fishing to rising fish was pretty much non-existent after Memorial Day weekend when they started the afternoon dam releases. Prior to Memorial Day, some of the early season hatches, like the Grannoms, can be fantastic. But, that all changes when the release start.
I boated my share of nymph fish, but nothing to write home about size-wise. Without a doubt the ticket was the early morning streamer fishing. I was basically binge fishing, so waking up in the dark and starting fishing was a perfect way to start the days.
Next year is #puremichigan. Whether these guys know of not, they caught the fly fishing bug. Zooch is taking us to the Au Sable to fish the Hex. That’s another one i can knock off the hit list and if nymphing on the Watauga was fly fishing 101, they are going to experience master level class fishing for monsters in the dark.
Its been years since we had the twins at Penns Creek when they were just 11 months old. Prior to then, Penns was an annual tradition that Spence and I would do every year with Cooper. But, with a growing family and busy work schedules, we just haven’t had the time to get back. For this year, we made a commitment to make it happen at some point again.
I was super excited to take the family back out, but also a little anxious about camping on my favorite spring creek in the world and knowing that I would be skipping stones versus casting flies. I hadn’t fished yet all season, but it helped that I had a fishing trip coming up with some buddies down in Tennessee.
The decision to go back to Penns was sort of last minute and we lucked out with getting the last camp site. The big kids made a campground friend and if we didn’t have 1.5 yr old Declan, we could actually see the potential of camping being relaxing again. This year was also the first year without Cooper, who we just put down about a couple weeks ago. I knew going back here without him would be heartbreaking, so part of the driver to get back this weekend was to celebrate life in a place filled with so many of our memories. We had so many good times with him and I remember standing on the banks of that stream with both my Father and Cooper and now both were gone. But the amazing thing about Poe Valley and Penns Creek is that though life seems to change so fast, that river and valley does not. It’s like you are stuck in time and the only thing that’s changed in 20 years has been that tressel bridge and the tunnel. Hopefully one day, my kids will look at this stories and pictures and say the same thing.
And I was able to do some fishing in the morning and exceeded my expectation, which was zero fishing. We didn’t see a single Green Drake, but I caught a couple on the evening sulphur spinner fall. One morning I snuck down to some pristine streamer water with Hunter and hooked into a really big Brown on a big headbanger sculpin. The water was high and i tossed it directly upstream and stripped down a seam about a foto off the bank. I saw the trout swim from the weed bank and annihilate my fly head first in about 6” of water. It was a sick grab. I stuck him and he peeled to the center of the stream and start head shaking in the current. He was hooked good and my only thought was letting my 4 year old land a Penns brown toad, so I went downstream and handed him the rod.
He fought him really well and that picture of him holding that 10’ rod on that rock with a look of terror and excitement will never be lost. But, that fish turned and bolted straight at Hunter and though he did a nice job keeping the rod tip up, stripping line on a 10’ rod and keeping tension was just not something we had covered yet. I lunged at the line and quickly stripped to save what I knew already happened and almost knocked Hunter off his rock.
In a flash that fish was gone, but at that exact moment a fisherman was born. I had to break the news to him, because he had no idea and he was immediately crushed and even held back some tears. But, by the time we got back to the camp site, Hunter was telling a world-class fish story that sounded like a 30-year veteran. He told the story to Mom, Jack and then Clara and every time that trout got bigger to a point where his arms where as wide as his 30 lb frame would allow.
It was a great trip and as soon as we got home we booked our campsite a year out in the same place where cell reception doesn’t exist and life slows down a bit.
Its been a super busy start to the spring, but we managed to get out for a good family morel hunt. We’ve been going to this spot for years now because it is so close, but its always a challenge to find them because they change locations every year and there never is a huge flush of them anywhere. The big change I notice every season now is how much faster the kids have gotten and how good they are at finding them. They can go off on there own and find them themselves. Its really neat! And the best part is that they like to fry them up with me and eat them - which is certainly a main reason to do it (among others!)
Our little guy Declan was still backpacking it and loving life. Ewwing and owwing in my ear the whole time. He loves the outdoors just like the rest of them and will be following in their footsteps in no time soon.
It’s March in Pennsylvania, which means the end of cabin fever season is near. Though we can expect some schizophrenic weather, its perfect time to start the seedlings, potatoes, onions and of course our favorite peas. The goal is to always get them planted by St. Patty’s Day, but this year we were actually a little early for a change! Peas are a great plant for the kids to put directly into the soil and this year the kids pretty much did the entire planting. Little Declan is just getting started, but was super excited to just be outside and in the dirt.
Rabbits are not usually at the top of my hunt list in the fall, but come February and they are the perfect ending to a great hunting season. I grew up hunting rabbits in my youth years and learned how to swing a shotgun. Back then, I didn’t have a bird dog, so rabbits were the only predictable quarry we could find. Hunting rabbits in the snow on a sunny day, might give you some of the best hunting action all season long.
The wife and kids were out for the day and I knew the farm across the road the I hunt all year for doves, deer, and turkey had rabbits all over it. Lots of old fence rows and brush piles made this farm a perfect rabbit hunt. I just never spent the time to do this solo in the past few years. Hunting small game is always more fun with the company of friends. So, we beat the brush and were rewarded with lots of jumps and constant action. After chasing elk in high altitude country and sitting through long frozen hours in the deer stand, chasing a few rabbits seemed like the perfect way to end the 2018-2019 season.
It’s never too early to bring them along….I started taking Hunter with me this fall in some pheasant hunting spots with Cooper. The kids are always fascinated when I bring pheasants or deer home, so I wanted to take them to see how its done. So I took Hunter with me out bird hunting with Cooper and Jack asked to come bow hunting with me. Of course tactics and how we hunt changes slightly when you are with a 4 and 5 year old, but its the absolute best to be in the field with the kids. If this is any indication of how the years to come will be spent, then its going to be a lot of fun.
This year’s pilgrimage included a trip to the cabbage farm followed by a pheasant hunt on opening day in Somerset County with Cooper and a pit stop to Whitehorse Brewing for some Packsaddle Ales . Over the next couple weeks, we had quite October stomp action with the kiddos and even little Declan baby got in on the action. This year I felt confident enough to let Jack do some of the shredding and put Hunter on the salt. Of course everyone stomped.
Part of the tradition has evolved into pumpkin carving while we stomp. It is truly a Fall celebration.
Sunday Funday! Family Hike day in Ohiopyle area while Spencer’s sister Meg was in town from Brooklyn. We ended up taking along route than planned and the kids were absolute troopers to be pushed outside their hiking comfort zone. But, because of the Dad detour, we ended up finding a pretty awesome Bear’s Tooth mushroom, which is a close cousin to the Lion’s Mane.
Speaking of bears, we also came to a bridge that went across a mountain stream that had some recent bear tracks on the rock algae in 3-4 inches of water. It looked like a couple smaller cubs made the tracks and you could see where their pads where sliding on the slippy rocks (yes, slippy).
It was a fun and rewarding hike and pretty warm by the time we left. Awesome day to be in the mountains.
We have a great dove hunting flyway right across from the house. So, when I asked the kids who wanted to come dove hunting with me, Hunter about jumped out of his shoes. “That sounds awesome!” He kept saying, “I can’t wait to harpoon some birds right out of the sky”. His one-liners had my laughing the entire time. It was great.
We only had about an hour before soccer practice and the doves weren’t flying well at all. But, I ripped a couple shots at some high flyers just to make the gun go bang. It didn’t matter today. We just enjoyed hanging out and we will have plenty of more dove days ahead of us.
The Colorado stars seemed to align to make this trip happen. I was way too busy, had no travel to the Rockies and I certainly wasn’t training to be ready like I had the previous year. But, I got an invite from Hodge, aka the Billy Goat, to join Glessner and his boys from North Carolina at his camp and that made it all possible. ‘Bring your bow, your boots, and your clothes and let’s go’. I’d only met Hodge for a few days the previous year, but he treated “us Pennsylvania boys” like we’d been friends for decades. Its rare to meet anyone like that these days. But, its no surprise he’s a wrestler. That fraternity is strong.
I still felt way too busy at work and was pretty anxious about leaving my wife for this amount of time with 3 young kids plus a baby. But, the Grandparents helped out and my wife was ultimately the one who pushed me to do this. She’s the best. So, it was game on. Step 1, was getting a cortisone shot in my bad knee that crippled me on the mountain last year. Then, I trained my ass off for a month to cram and get ready. It was good to have an aggressive goal.
We stepped into a much different experience than last year. First, we flew versus driving 28 hours. This changed the packing strategy, but we made it work. Then, we also prepped differently and started on a 24-hour regiment of Aspirin / Ibuprofen 800’s to combat the Acute Mountain Syndrome aka altitude sickness. Last year, we got so sick that we were totally incapacitated on the first night…… we were disoriented, vomiting and had the most intense headache I’ve ever experienced. We were camping at 10,300 ft, so this was no joke. Looking back, I think we were close to pulmonary edema - which can actually be a significant medical emergency and life threatening. Needless to say, I was extremely nervous this would happen again this year, but we made it through the night and acclimated within a couple days.
Camp itself was also an enormous upgrade. Last year we had an old canvas wall tent from the 1970’s which served us well. But, the problem was our overnight Camp Buddy propane heater was made for a duck blind not elk camp. Hodge had wood burners in both his camps and they were roomy. We also had a full blown camp kitchen area and a huge cooking setup. We had some gourmet camp meals - bear stew, elk sausage, etc. Grouse made for some tasty camps snacks and of course we had coolers full of Colorado’s finest craft brews. It was high-class hunting.
The Carolina boys that Hodge grew up with were awesome. We never met these guys prior to the hunt, but after a couple beers and couple stories, the group just meshed. They were good Southern dudes that liked to hunt for sure. I would venture to stay that I could get along with anyone that wants the hard word and experience of chasing elk the way we do it. You pretty much have to be cut from the same cloth. And after spending 9 days in camp together, you come out with lifelong friends.
When we arrived at camp, Hodge had been there for a week already and had been hunting and scouting and had many bulls located. We were hunting a new area, but this gave us a huge head start because we were into elk immediately. An by immediately, I mean we found ourselves in a bugle fest with a couple bulls before it got daylight on the first morning. My coffee was still too hot to drink and we came close to tagging out. Of course, that didn’t happen, but it was the most intense elk experience I’ve ever seen and we had them 80 yards from us going absolutely NUTS. The hunt was off to a great start.
After our first day with Hodge, Glessner and I had the training wheels off and were on our own. About mid-week we went out for a morning hunt into an area dubbed as the Champagne Room. This was the coveted breeding ground were all the rut action went down last year. And though the prime rut was another 1-2 weeks away, the big bulls were establishing their order. That morning we set up with a dry setup and started calling. Almost immediately we had a bull grunting aggressively below us so we made a move. We called, he answered and we moved in again. I’m typically a little more conservative in my hunting style, but I learned enough watching Hodge to know you need to get aggressive or go home. So, I wailed on the bugle, closed distance and made a ruckus that triggered this big bull to come charging down through the woods looking for a fight. Within seconds I had the biggest animal I’ve ever seen in wild within about 10 yards of my broadhead and he wasn’t slowing down. He flanked me to the meadow and Glessner stopped him with a cow call just to allow a perfectly broadside 20 yards shot. I delivered what I thought to be a perfect lung shot, but my arrow hit a rib and only got about 1/4 way in. the bull dropped to the ground immediately, but within a few seconds recovered to his feet to run up the hill. About 70 yards up the hill, the bull toppled over again and this time laid down for 20-30 seconds. This was it. I thought I had my trophy bull and was overcome with adrenaline. But, this story doesn’t end well. He miraculously made it back to his feet and within seconds was running away and vanished into the timber. I couldn’t believe my eyes and was stunned. It was simply unreal. We ended up waiting for an hour, but my optimism was still pretty high after watching him crash twice. This quickly waned as we tracked him for the next 11 hours by sparse blood and his hoof print. We put everything we had into this track, but I failed on the recovery. I went out the next 3 days and relentlessly searched and searched and searched, but nothing.
Quite simply, it was the most intense amazing hunting experience followed up with the most gut-wrenching disappointment of my entire hunting career. I was physically ill for days and it was hard to get back out there. I’ve replayed it a million times in my head and I still don’t understand. But, I cant forget how awesome that 10-15 minutes were when that bull was committing to the bugle. It was an adrenaline rush few will encounter and there is no doubt that experience changed me forever.
The one thing we didn’t experience last year was someone actually getting an elk. Trapper Brad from NC was the first to actually harvest a cow he killed on Day 4 back in the mountains. I give him a ton of credit - he went back in and stayed in by himself for a couple days. When he came back, he had a cow down and quartered out and ready for the team pack out. He was a few miles in, but having 6 guys with frame packs made the pack out reasonable and we got back around midnight.
We worked up quite the appetite, so when we got back to camp, we ate elk steaks for the next hour. Most of them were cooked right on a rock slab int the fire. We just seared team quickly on each side and DONE. It was like eating Rocky Mountain Sushi. Simply amazing. We also pan fried some up with the special flour. Needless to say we ate good that night and slept well.
After the last day of the hunt, we all went into local town to grab showers, laundry, beers and souvenirs for the kids. Everyone, but Hodge. He stayed back. . We had a pretty awesome afternoon and enjoyed the town scene. We made it back to camp after dark that evening, but Hodge still wasn’t there. When he rolled up the old dirt road beeping his horn around 10 pm, we all knew what it meant. It was celebration time for another elk, but also impending work that would quickly sober us up. And sober up we did. The pack out was maybe 3 miles in, but again we made quick work of it. This was good, because we flew out in the morning.
Hodge sent us all a video of him bugling and calling before the trip and simply told us to “get on my level.” We made a ton of progress up the learning curve from last year and I called in my first bull to bow range. But, we were still far where we need to be to consistently harvest an elk on public land with a OTC tag. Though, after hunting with Hodge and this crew for the week, the bar and expectation has been set. As an eastern hunter that gets 8-9 days each year and starting from ground zero is challenging. Podcast and reading can only get you so far. Experience is key, unless you have someone to set the bar. if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t know what was even possible with calling elk. Hell, I’d still be pushing a Hoochie Mama and wondering when a big bull elk would wonder in! But, I watched and learned and took meticulous mental notes all week long and learned what it takes to consistently harvest an archery elk each year. It’s up to me not to do what it takes in the off season to make this happen next year. And I am already counting down the days…
For Spencer's birthday, we decided to drive over to West Virginia to visit with some friends and fish the sulphur hatch. We left the big kids back with the grandparents in Hot Springs, VA, but our little guy Declan doesn't go far from Mama. He's about the chillest baby on the planet, so we figured we'd figured it would go smoothly...
It was a great evening on the water and Declan got to witness his first evening hatch. Of course, he seemed to be quite bit fussier than normal after introducing him to some sweet potatoes about 12 ours earlier. So, it wasn't exactly the relaxing stream side evening that we had envisioned. But, it was super sweet to have him out there and fun to spend it with Mike and Sabrina. Thanks to Sabrina for the great pics she took while we were there.
I swore after last year this wouldn't happen again. But, I missed fishing the month of May again. Work travel, conferences, baby / kids / family commitments, soccer weekends, garden, yard work and flooded rivers all led to missing my favorite month of the year....for the seconds year in a row. It was bad.
Fortunately, we made up for it strong start in June when river levels dropped and I hit 3 of my favorite waters in a couple weeks fishing. I got the drake bug and Mike and I pulled off an incredibly nonsensical out and back trip to Penns for the evening hatch that resulted in a 1030 pm river submersion, busted knee and 2:30 am drive home. Bugs, rising trout and bent rods helped make up for missing May. But, I promise it won't happen next year.
It's been a nice little tradition to do a some fishing on Good Friday in Virginia. It hasn't been an intentionally designed tradition, but rather just seemed to have evolved. Stranger then the fact I seem to end up fishing on Good Friday; I keep ending unintentionally doing the same thing year after year.
I didn't really put the trend together until this last Virginia trip when I passed the same tiny white mountain church with their 20' white cross and a purple cloak blowing in the wind. It's a striking scene at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains and I certainly take notice.
The rest of this experience is for me, but these fishing days are special. There is a certain peace that I have never been able to find anywhere but on a solo trip to a the mountain stream, especially in late March. The entire forest appears dead from winter, but if you looks closely, you will send the first signs of rebirth. Lots of symbolism. The entire valley through the promise of spring is closer than we realize. And on this day, a couple of the biggest brookies in the stream were kind enough to take a dry fly.
Of all the kids, Clara is by far most interested in learning about fly tying. Granted, I dont expect 4 and 5 year-olds to really get into fly tying, but Clara loves anything artistic and creative. And she has a million questions.
So when I tie some flies, (which seems pretty rare these days) I make sure to call Clara and invite her to hang out. I was tying up some green drakes for a trip to Penns and she was helping with some of the coloring activities of the wings and bodies. She loved it!
In my messy box of fly materials, I have a straw that I cut notches into for a makeshift nailknot tool. Clara found this straw and asked me if she could borrow it. ‘Of course sweetie’ and she ran off into the other room. As I finished up my last fly, she came running back into the room and said, “here Daddy, …I made you a green drake!” She had cut out a head and wings, colored them and then taped them to the straw. She also gave me a picture of us together.
I felt my heart swell to the size of the moon and instantly melted. I’ll never loose this green drake straw for the rest of my life. So precious. And what creativity ?!?! She’s 5!
Spencer's only Mother's Day request was a hike with the family and somehow of my famous homemade pizza. So, we went to a local spot to try and find any last remaining morels, ramps, and nettles. We tried Declan out in the hiking backpack and he LOVED his new viewpoint on the world.
We found a few old morels that weren't worth picking, but still fun to find and revisit for next year. The ramps were sparse and older too, but would be great for pizza night (on my half :). And the other added bonus was this backpack was big enough to fill with enough nettles as I wanted. We found a really cool box turtle on our trip just chilling in wet patch of the woods. And we got a few gobblers to play along to some louder than normal aggressive cutting. There are some benefits to no hunting on Sundays in PA. We had a great hike, but no bear tracks this year!
I baked the nettles in some coconut oil later that evening and baked up a killer pizza for the evening dinner. Great day to celebrate our #1 team MVP.
