My 7-year-old son is interested in fishing. Interested as in obsessed. When he’s not fishing, he’s talking about fishing. When he’s not talking about fishing, he’s reading about fishing. When he’s not reading about fishing, he’s practicing fishing.
I grew up fishing in Texas — land of river cats and big bass. And I loved it, too. For my 10th birthday, I remember getting a new rod and reel and being over the moon, even though my girlie-girlfriends at the time all wanted Barbies. (I liked those, too, by the way. A Fishing Barbie would’ve been perfect.)
But my son’s quest for fishing knowledge and his enthusiasm has now far surpassed mine. He’s even into fly fishing now, which is an art form and not something easily mastered. But he’s trying, and living in Colorado gives him ample opportunity to learn.
Last fall, he’d read in a magazine about an area in Wyoming called the “Miracle Mile,” where there are supposedly 4,000 trout per mile. His version of heaven. He convinced his grandfather to take him on a trip up there this summer. But when grandpa’s plans changed, and my husband had to work the weekend of the planned trip, I couldn’t bear to see his disappointment. So I stepped in to take him.
You don’t hear many people talking about mother-son fishing trips. Which is a bit sad. Because I highly recommend it. We had such a good time together. We fished every possible second over three days. We got up early and stayed on the river and lakes until the mosquitoes drove us away. I untangled and re-rigged more lines than I care to count. We took a float trip down the
with a guide. We saw trout and trout and more trout. We caught some, too. We laughed and talked. In the late evenings, we’d sit outside at the fishing lodge where we were staying and read by flashlight. Me, a novel. Him, fly fishing books.
By the end of our trip, I was fished out. But I wouldn’t trade that time together for anything in the world. We made some great memories.
Mostly, I’m glad I was able to teach him a little something about not believing in stereotypes. Because I’m pretty sure he learned that moms (and women in general) can be pretty great company on fishing trips, too.