Bonefish on the Brain Bonefish and all that relates (maybe a bit about tarpon too).

My dad turns 75 today. He’s my longest-time fishing companion.

As a very small boy we’d fish Hall Creek near his childhood home in Corning. Later we’d fish the Klamath River together for steelhead. We plugged away at our local Upper Sacramento River a bit, but didn’t really fish it until I hit about 21.

We fished the Lower Sacramento for shad on Memorial Day weekend every year of my childhood (minus flood years) and the Klamath for half-pounders every Labor Day weekend (minus one year due to fires).

We fished the coastal rivers of Southern Oregon for steelhead with me freezing my feet to blocks of ice in my plastic waders.

All of that was without a fly, mostly worms and eggs and gear. I started fly fishing when I was 21 and my dad started the year after. Since that time we’ve fly fished 10x more than before.

We’ve fished the Umpqua and the Babine together. We’ve fished our home trout waters like the Upper Sacramento, McCloud, Fall River, Hat Creek and more. We’ve fished the Lower Sacramento and the Trinity. We’ve fished ponds and lakes. We’ve fished Montana and Yellowstone.

The Babine

Dad lands a Madison Brown

A Lower Sac Rainbow

We started saltwater fly fishing together in Hawaii and then caught our first bonefish in Grand Bahama. We’ve fished Abaco together and the Everglades.

Our first flat in Kauai

My dad’s best Bahamas fish

Heading out in Abaco

We’ll fish Mexico together in July. One more memory to make and I hope many more to come.

Thanks for providing the spark dad.

My dad has given me a lot over the years and one of the best gifts has been the love of fishing. He’s the one who first got me interested and gave me the opportunities to experience the water, the fish and the environment. I am actively trying to pay it forward with my own children.

My dad is a lover of nature. He’s curious about rock formations and clouds and birds and fish. He’s interested in the land and how all the pieces fit together. He still gets excited about a fish, any fish, and will still pull the car over to see a bird. My mom is sometimes frustrated that he won’t remember the name of someone he’s known for 20 years, but will be able to tell you what river he caught a steelhead on in 1969, on what day, on what rock!

We’ve had some great days on the water… and some truly miserable ones, but I’m grateful for each and every one.

Thank you, dad, for the gift of fish. I’d say it stuck.

Dad

When I think back on who taught me to fish, it is easy. It was my dad. He didn’t teach me to fly fish, that came later. He did teach me to fish though. I have many, many fond memories of fishing with my dad as a kid. We fished for shad on the Lower Sacramento on Memorial Day. We fished for steelhead on the Klamath on Labor day. We fished for Steelhead on the Elk and other Southern Oregon rivers in the winter (along with the Klamath).

I’d imagine your dad taught you. Odds are fair to good on that regard.

When I look back at my awkward childhood, through the good and the bad, the fishing stands out as solidly in the “good” column. In the arc from there to adulthood fishing has remained a central part of my life and an easy, free-flowing source of conversation between my father and I.

So, thanks dad.

I’m headed up to my home town today to go see my dad, who is in the hospital right now awaiting surgery. No, it’s not those butt implants he always wanted, this is a little more serious and if everything goes well, he’ll be off the water for a long time.

If you still have your teacher, make sure to tell them thanks.

I’m the good looking one.

My dad pulled out the cast of his lifetime to get this pretty fantastic mutton snapper.