“Thursday morning, Johnny and I started our 7-8 hour trip to Pennsylvania. Although I seldom actually use them on guided trips, I had tied a nice little batch of Caddis, Iso and Light Cahill imitations; tying flies, learning about the flies, and envisioning all the action they would provoke has become part of my preparation ritual. My flies, our waders and boots, our homemade 2-weight and 3-weight rods (outfits we never use but don’t leave home without), winter coats, fall coats, hoodies, flannels — you never know in the beginning of November — and most importantly for this trip, rain gear was packed as neatly as could be into the back of the SUV.
My biggest fear on this trip — and maybe my biggest fear in just about everything — is that Johnny isn’t going to enjoy himself. I visualize and pray that these are good times for him, that he’ll look back and smile and think, “Hey, that was fun.” Mostly I just want him to come back and want to fish with me when he’s his own man and I’m an old man. So I kinda have a lot riding on these little jaunts, and the weather was looking ferocious: cold and rain. He’s not going to have a good time if he’s cold and wet. We pack for the worst. I get the customary grunts and eye rolls when I ask for the 23rd time if he remembered his base-layer shirt.”
If you’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching a youngster to fly fish, John Quin’s heartwarming story about his first fishing trip to the fabled Delaware River with his son will resonate with you and bring back good memories.
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