Family… like the parents and siblings kind of family. It’s our origin, our nature and our nurture; the emotions and actions of our loved ones help form us, and are forever etched on our souls and in our brains, whether or not we want to admit it. Each other’s champions or sometime foils, our familial relationships ebb and flow and are at least, if nothing else, constant. And, hopefully, if we’re lucky, we actually want to spend some time with our families.
Our good friend, Frank, had his brother and father in town for the weekend, and these three guys clearly enjoy being around each other – I’ve never heard the phrase “Shut the f#ck up!” uttered with such obvious love and affection. I’m completely serious here.
Frank is based in Denver, Tom is a medical student in Virginia, and Frank Senior is a contented retiree in his home city of Philadelphia. Frank booked a nice house on the banks of the Big Thompson, and generously invited a few of his Denver friends up for a Saturday night of steaks, drinks, good conversation, throwing bags, and poker. A guy’s night away from obligations. But before all that, we went fishing.
The Big Thompson had come down almost 100 cfs from Friday to Saturday, but was still at 380 – just too high to really fish the canyon section effectively, but we gave it our best shot anyway, as the meadow stretch directly below the Lake Estes dam was jam-packed. We had 3 novices along for the day, so it was more of a casting clinic, and a chance to get Frank’s dad and brother into a cold, clear western river. But we also caught a few fish.
Caddis were coming off so hare’s ears were working, and we also netted a few on a ray charles and a pink san juan worm. We had most of our luck – and the easiest water for the beginners – where things back up and slow down above Idyllwilde dam.
Two highlights from the day come to mind. The first was Tom catching his first trout ever. His line management from the start of the day to the end, when he caught his fish, was a solid progression. He was fishing a small run by himself, getting a legitimate 20 feet of natural drift, and being very methodical about moving up it. Toward the top he hooked his fish, and Timmy almost drowned himself getting over to Tom to help him net the fish (a beautiful small brown). You’re a good net man, Timmy.
Thanks for the day of fishing and the guy’s night of beer-soaked hilarity, Frank. You Philly boys sure know how to throw a party.
To see the complete set of pictures, click HERE