Lyfting Me Up

— (a follow-up on Sofia’s request)

In 1991 we took a 31–day van trip from Alamosa to the Kenai Peninsula and back. One of my dreams was to fish in Alaska. One day in July we loaded up the van in Anchorage and went down to the Russian River to fish for “Reds”. We were warned by MK’s family that there would be a lot of people on both sides of the river, casting their lines to catch the throng that was headed up river to make millions of new salmon. We found it just as they had described. We staked out our spot and began our quest. The problem was it was mostly between runs. There were fish there, just not in the numbers I had imagined.

The first catch was made by my nephew Jed. He managed to wrap his line around the leg of a seagull which flew around like a Chinese Kite. The seagull crashed on the other bank of the river, right in the middle of two jet pilots from the local air base. They secured the bird, cut the line and 30 or so folk cheered as the bird flew off. The metaphor of “combat fishing” is an apt descriptor for chaos that abounds when lines are flying everywhere and occasionally someone is reeling in a tasty prize. We were not that lucky… the only one to catch anything was son Mateo—who landed two beautiful Reds.

This story is all background for what I experienced yesterday with my family. We went, per recommendation of new super-son-in-law Scott, to Staunton State Park where the Division of Wildlife has created a kids’ fishing pond, complete with instructors who volunteer time and gear. We arrived there before the throng that was soon to follow. Scott was able to secure a nice trout which he let Conor reel in. We admired the fish and let it go. Soon about 35 kids from a day camp arrived. We were given a heads up by another volunteer that they were coming. The great part was they had a “casting class” for these neophytes, and Conor and Sophia were invited to join.

To top things off one of the volunteers who worked formerly for the Federal Government took a real interest in our crew. She said to me, “In about 10 minutes a truck is going to show up from near Salida with 1200 trout they are going to stock here. Usually it takes three or four days before they adjust and start biting but we will see”. Well, the young man showed up and did his thing maybe 25 feet from our space we had claimed. Needless to say all of the 35 neophytes crowded in and the combat fishing began. The lady who predicted a slow start to a feeding frenzy was wrong. Trout were jumping everywhere and the kids began to catch fish left and right. They were using barbless hooks as their experience was “catch and release’. All the better.

On her own Sofia made a cast, caught a nice sized trout which released itself near the shore. Scott called it a “Rodeo Catch”… if you ride it for at least eight seconds it counts. Way to go Sofia, and the judges give you a score of 93.7!!!

We couldn’t have scripted a better day for all the kids. Mattias, who bought his own “now I am a Colorado resident” license wanted to keep two fish which he promised to eat for dinner. He did.

Combat fishing in Colorado was much more productive than Alaska and we did not snag a seagull.

Onward and Upward,

Mark