First Time Fishing with the Chief

I've always had a pretty good relationship with Dad. He has been both a good father and a friend. It's a difficult balance to strike, but somehow he managed to navigate the line successfully. As an adult, I would rather spend my time with him over anyone else. We really do have a good relationship, except when we work on projects together. I've come to learn that collaboration is not our strong suit; the father-side and desire to teach takes over, and I guess the son in me resents that.

I don't know the origin, but sometime during my teenage years, I started referring to the old man as "The Chief." It turned in to an honorific that stuck, and he seems to appreciate it. When his first grandchild was born and everyone was trying to figure out what they would prefer to be called, Dad couldn't really think of anything. He felt he could not measure up to the kind of grandfather his father-in-law had been and so he believed he wasn't worthy of being called "Papaw." Nothing else really struck him, and so someone suggested perhaps he try "Chief." Nope, he said. That belonged to his son alone.

The Chief grew up in Eastern Kentucky on the Ohio River. He worked successfully to become an Eagle Scout, and grew up active in the outdoors. As I was growing up, though, the demands of his job, and a number of family illnesses sort of prevented us from having the time to fish, hunt, and camp together, and by the time I reached 35, I still had never really been fishing with him.

That has now changed. He's started working less, and this spring, he stopped working so much. One day, he comes in and announces that he would like to learn how to fly fish and wanted to know if I wanted to go with him. I asked why and he said he always had wanted to learn, but never really had a chance. He could remember watching men floating Lewis County's Kinniconick Creek, fly fishing as they went.He's always had fond memories of growing up on Kinney, but his description was the most vivid recollection I could remember him ever sharing.

So we began outfitting ourselves with the basic equipment and arming ourselves with enough information to accomplish something. We practiced casting in the yard; we practiced tying knots; and for the first time I can recall, we worked on a project together while getting along. The plan was to go out on Father's Day weekend 2011, but due to an emergency in my wife's family, we didn't make it until the following week. But on that day, I went fishing with my dad for the first time.

We went to a small hidden honey hole, not far from home. He didn't want anyone to watch him as we learned, so we selected a spot that guaranteed isolation, and we began fishing.

My first objective when fishing is always to simply break the ice. Just catching that first fish and being able to say I caught something that day, relieves a ton of pressure and helps me to simply relax and enjoy the day. I don't care about the species or the size, just as long as I catch at least one fish.

So usually, my first target is bluegill, and I'm really good at locating bluegill. After about five minutes, I had one on the line using a mosquito imitation, and then another, and another. I was having fun, and now it was time to starting playing for bass, so I tied on a popper bug.

I heard the Chief hollering, and turned just in time to watch him land his first fish of the day, and first fish fly fishing. It was a largemouth bass just over the minimum. He was smiling from ear-to-ear as he held that fish up for me to take a photo. It's a moment I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

After that, the waters opened up, and the fish started biting, I was taking bass off the line like crazy, and the Chief was catching too. We landed twenty fish between the two of us in a matter of a few hours. What a wonderful turnout for my first day fishing with Dad.