Monday, December 31, 2012

At the end

As I reflect upon this year of angling I can't recall a fish that made the year; most years are that way. I'm not at the point that I'm chasing trophies or exotic species. Most times it's enough just to be standing in running water with a hope for a tug. Catching a Greenback Cutthroat (later debunked as a hybrid), the first on a bamboo fly rod, does have a special place but mostly owing to the totality of the experience than the fish itself.

There are places that stand out during the past year: seeing the Front Range for the first time was more extraordinary that I thought it would be, struggling to breathe on a fourteen thousand foot peak while simultaneously being stunned by the views, hiking up along the Big Thompson at altitude and discovering it's not all that Big, up the Slough scrambling on boulders dodging bear, walking among Bison on the Lamar, sitting under a tree smoking a cigar with Bruce while a summer storm pelts the Gallatin.

Lily Lake
Beyond the angling and the locales, the people defined the year. Ann and the boys continue to conspire on new adventures. While I know my oldest seems to be gravitating toward urban landscapes both the boys still humor us with outdoor adventures that I hope are molding them into being something better than they might otherwise be. And Ann and I are having such fun. It is the life and partnership that I had hoped for and it is becoming so much more. It's a blessing.

I finally got to meet a few of my fellow bloggers. Unfortunately, a meeting with Jay and Erin was cut short by illness but I'm sure we'll reconnect before long. I met Marc out in Yellowstone and then again in Tennessee where Mike joined us for a day of angling on the Holston. In our sport, streams are the table upon which we break bread and Marc set a fine spread for us. That's another place to which I must return.

The Yellowstone Gang  (from left to right): Smithhammer,
Karen Kress (Yellowstone Park Foundation),
Deeter, Payne, Hunt, Garlock, Zakur
In Yellowstone I met a gaggle of extraordinary people. Chris was the ringleader and he put together an all-star team. Kirk, Bruce, Marc, Rebecca and Chris formed the core of a traveling band of writers that I am deeply humbled to be counted among. It was one of those rare moments where a group of strangers gathered and the mixture of personality, experiences and shared passion for craft and sport meshed in a way that I may not witness again if I live a hundred years.

Along our journey we also met with Rich, Brennan, Dave, Ken, K.C., Todd, and countless, dedicated National Park Service folks who are doing yeoman's work to keep the places that are worth saving, safe.

Locally, I fished with Kit, Jon, Don, Ross, Heather, James, Chris, Sam, Todd and Steve and probably a few others whom I've forgotten. I usually fish when I can which means I often fish alone. It's when I have the opportunity to fish with a friend that I recall what a joy it is to fish in good company. Looking upstream to see Kit working the tail of a pool, see Don methodically and effectively nymphing the Sand Hole and wrestling chrome to the beach with Jon are all satisfying memories of the season past.

And because I spend more time at the keyboard than I do on the water there are people here who have rounded out my angling year. Howard, Alan, Quill, Sanders, Brian, T.J., Tom, Nate, Emily, John, the other Mike, Matt, Jason and countless others whom I've now offended by leaving them off the list.

The next year is close by and for the first time I enter a new calendar confused and uncertain. The past year has marked some of the highest and lowest points of my life; never have they been compacted so temporally. I find myself revisiting long-held beliefs and looking at the path I'm following which has suddenly become unfamiliar and dark.

But I have strength. As Ann says, confidence bordering on arrogance. And I have family and friends upon which to lean for the support and comfort that make long, hard journeys bearable and worthwhile. We'll find time to adventure and talk and write and read and together we'll make the coming year notable and extraordinary. The end is upon us and I face it with hope because it is also the beginning of new adventures, deeper friendships and a hope for grace and peace for those I hold dear.

Happy New Year to you all.

12 comments:

  1. A fine retrospective, Steve, with focus where focus should be; on the people we've met along this funny journey. Can't wait to share water - the bread of our fly fishing passion - again, soon.

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  2. I'm left wanting to say Amen...something I haven't in quite some time. Thank you, Steve. And a happy new year to you! I hope it finds you at some point, again out west.

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    1. Amen. To you as well Erin. I'm already plotting a journey west though time and budget will tell.

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  3. Outstanding... I hope we get to fish in 2013, my friend. Happy New Year.

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    1. Happy New Year, Chris. I too hope we find time to get together this year.

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  4. Steve, your writing and adventures, I discovered this year, are outstanding and I really enjoyed following along. May 2013 bring you, your family and your friends at home, peace and happiness.

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    1. Thanks, Howard. I've very much enjoyed meeting you on the blogs and hope that we can fish when I get out west next (or if you come out east). Happy New year!

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  5. Wrestling chrome was fun! My most abiding fishing memory takes me back to March 17, 2012. Warm sun and shirt sleeves. Caddis and stone flies hatching. Large brown trout rising.

    Not long now. Happy new year chum.

    Jonny



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    1. That was a good one. Thanks for reminding me. I'm still smiling. Happy New Year.

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