A Friend From France: Day 2

“I have to tell you...” Eric Bacon said, as we started our drive to the South Fork of the Boise. Eric was visiting the USA from France, and the other day, out of the twenty years he has been fishing here, was the first time he had ever encountered a prime trico hatch. 

“...After getting back so late from the river the other day, it was so hard to wake up at 5 a.m.  When my alarm went off it felt like I had gotten no sleep, and I wanted to press my snooze so bad, but then I remembered... the tricos are coming.” 

“Was it a good day for you yesterday?” I asked.  

Eric just smiled... “It was better than good, it was fantastic. Even better than when we went the day before!” 

“I am happy to hear you say that.” I said back clearly, because another reason for his visit the United States is to keep up on his English. Although most of the time Eric spends in the United States is alone on a river, so there is little English being practiced. 

“This is the spot.” I told Eric, as we drove along the river. Eric pulled over and we started to put our fly rods together. 

“Do you think we will see any rising fish?” Eric asked.

“100% sure!” I said. 

“I love your confidence.” Eric said, as we finished putting on our gear to walk to our spot.    

The heavy gusts of wind disturbed the water so badly that it was almost impossible to spot rising fish, but they were definitely rising. 

“They will be feeding on a midge or a blue-winged olive.” I said, as we caught glimpses of rising fish in between the bursts of riffled water. 

Seeing the fish was hard enough, but presenting a fly was even more difficult. I would get my barring down and make my cast only to have my fly blown too far downstream to catch the fish. Furthermore, when we did get a good presentation the fish were refusing the flies we were offering.  

I was running out of midge and blue-winged olive patterns to try as the sun rose over the eastern canyon wall, and I looked over at Eric who was also struggling. 

“Screw it!” I said, mad at the fish, and tied on a size 26 midge. The small midge was hard to get ahold of as I plucked it from my box. A size 26 midge is so small that I bet you could fit ten of them on a dime, and it was not a fly I wanted to fish with today because it was so hard to see.

“Refuse that!” I said, and casted my fly over to the rising fish. My line turned over nicely, but my fly disappeared as it hit the water. The only thing I could do now was guess where my fly landed and set the hook if I think a fish ate it. A fish did rise, but it was a little further downstream than where I thought my fly was. I shot my rod up to recast, and to my surprise a fish was attached to my line. 

“Eric, I got one!” I yelled, as my fish made its presence known. All the commotion my fish was making on the surface of the water had me concerned it would spook the other rising fish. I tilted my fly rod off to the side to bring my rod tip parallel to the water to keep it from thrashing on the surface. I scooted over towards Eric as I brought in my fish so he could see the fly I was using.

“Oh my goodness.” Eric said, as he strained to see the small fly, barely visible on my fingertip. 

“I do not have anything that small.” 

“Well, I can give you some.” I said back, while I released my fish.

“No, I cannot see something that small on the river.” Eric said, and pulled out his fly box in search of a small fly. 

“I will try this one.” He said after some digging, and tied it on. 

“Do you see the fish rising over there?” I asked, pointing to the spot where I just was. 

“Yes, but those are your fish.” Eric said. 

“No, it’s okay. I want you to catch one.” I said, and Eric smiled.

“When it comes to fly fishing, you do not need to tell me twice.” Eric’s smile got bigger as he calmly approached the fish and got more serious. I stayed back to observe his approach to the fish, and it wasn’t long before he had hooked into one.

“What fly did you use?” I asked as Eric brought in his fish. 

“It is a small Blue-Winged Olive fly that Christian tied.” Eric said, keeping his focus on the fight as he unclipped his net to land the fish. The fish was tiring, so Eric lifted his rod high and slipped his net under the struggling fish.  

“There you go!” I yelled, as Eric’s fish flopped into the net.

“This is a very pretty fish.” He said unhooking the fly from its mouth, and holding the fish in the water before it kicked away.  

The fish left Eric’s hands slowly, and we both watched as it swam out of sight.

“That is the best part.” Eric said after the fish was fully out of sight. He gathered his leader and redressed his fly to go back to fishing.

Fish were still rising, and the wind had died down a bit but was still present. In the center of the river a fish rose more aggressively than the rest, causing a slight splash. A fish feeding on a caddis usually causes this kind of feeding behavior, but it had only happened once so I didn’t switch my fly. Eric, on the other hand, did switch his fly and launched a nice cast out to where he had seen the aggressive rise.

“There!” I heard him yell, and looked over to see he was fighting a fish. By the time I had reached Eric, he already had his fish landed and was ready for a picture.

Eric dipped his fish back into the water, and it kicked away.

“That one took a caddis.” Eric said, so I opened my box of caddis flies to select one to tie on.

“I will try that over here.” I said, and walked back to the fish that I was working before Eric caught his fish. The fish were still feeding when I returned, and I pitched out my caddis fly and watched as a head came up and ate it.

“The Caddis fly!” I yelled for Eric to hear, and he gave me a positive thumbs up as I fought the fish. Though the fish was not very big, it was putting up a hell of a fight. The little fish was ripping out line faster than a snow-speeder taking down an imperial walker. The fish tired after a few runs, and I scooped it up in my net to unhook my fly.

After my fish swam off, I immediately went back to fishing. With the sudden success of my caddis, I figured the next fish would be hooked very soon… I was wrong. Sometimes this happens: you pick a fly, it works once, and then it never works again. I call it a one hit wonder, because it makes you wonder why it even worked the first time.

“I got one!” Eric yelled, taking my attention away from choosing a new fly.

“Looks like a nice one!” I yelled back.

“Yes, this one is bigger than the rest.” Eric said, as his fish thrashed on the surface.

“Oh my goodness, this is a very nice fish.” Eric said again, as the fish took off for a second run. I stayed quiet while Eric’s fly rod doubled over as he fought to control the fish.

“Again!” He said, after he had brought in the fish, and it bolted away for a third run.

“Were you able to see it?” I asked.

“Yes.” He answered back, but was distracted when the fish went for a fourth run. Lucky for Eric, the fourth run was the fish’s last. Eric’s arm was getting tired, but the fight was over. He brought his rod tip high to scoop up the fish, but I was able to get my camera underwater to capture a cool shot.

“Nice job!” I said, after Eric had scooped it up.

“Yes.” He said back, “This is a very nice fish.”

“Well, let’s get a nice picture of it!” I said with excitement, as Eric held up his prize.

Although we could still see some rising fish, we decided to go check out a new spot on the river. Eric had fastened his fly to his fly rod to start walking back to the car, when I hooked into a fish.

“This always happens right when I decided I want to leave a spot.” I said, fighting the fish.

“I know what you mean.” Eric said, as I netted my fish.

I quickly dumped the fish out of my net, and after a quick glance back to the rising fish to wonder if we should leave or not, we decided it was worth checking out new water.

We got back to the car and started heading upstream when we saw something crossing the road.

“A snake!” I said, as Eric drove by it.

“Let’s take a look.” He said, stopping quickly and pulling off the road.

“Is it dangerous?” Eric asked, as he walked up to the snake that was crossing the road.

“No, it’s a bull snake.” I said, turning on my Go-Pro to get some footage of the snake. Despite it not being as dangerous as a rattlesnake, we both kept a safe distance as to not aggravate the snake; that was until I stuck my Go-Pro in its face.

The bull snake pulled itself back from the Go-Pro, which I thought would make for a cool shot; and then I heard, WACK!

The bull snake had just struck my Go-Pro, and I jolted back like I had just gotten shocked... only more clumsy. Eric started laughing at the situation, as I looked to see if there were any marks on my Go-Pro. Seeing none, I went back to filming as the snake slithered off the road and into the bushes. 
Sadly, the snake incident was the most action we had while looking for a new place to fish, and after a while of fishing our new spot we went back to our original spot to finish off the evening. We knew immediately it was a good choice, because Eric ended up catching a nice fish after no more that ten minutes back.

“What fly did it take?” I asked Eric after he let his fish go. 

“The magic fly!” He said with a smile. 

“That’s fantastic! The magic fly strikes again!” I said. 

The closest thing I had to the magic fly was a small midge I tied on, but it wasn’t working as well. Further downstream, Eric was hooked into another nice fish, so I made my way down to get a picture.

“Ooooh, that’s a nice one.” I said, “Look at the spots on its lips.”   
“Yes, it is a very beautiful fish.” Eric said, before he slid the fish out of his net. I headed back upstream, and before I could make a cast Eric had on another fish. 
“The magic fly!” He yelled up to me, and I started to make my way back downstream to him. 
“No, no! Don’t worry about me, you fish.” He said fighting his fish.  I didn’t waste any time getting my fly out in front of some rising fish, and to my surprise one took. 

Eric was hooking into fish like he was a human gill net, as I continued struggling to get a refusal. I kept thinking that I needed a magic fly, and that I will never come out here without one ever again. Eric hooked into his last fish of the night, and decided to head back to the car to gear down. I had to catch one more fish before I headed in, so I stayed a little longer. There were a few more fish starting to rise, but nothing prepared me for what happened after the light left the canyon. To say fish where rising everywhere still wouldn’t be a good enough description as to how many fish were rising. It was as if an entire legend of trout piled into this long stretch of river, and all started feeding at once. There was no timing the fish and no selecting a single fish, because there were too many to keep one in sight. Fish were leaping completely out of the water to eat, with no fear of being picked off by a raptor overhead. This is what I live for, I thought as I was in complete awe at the sight of so many fish rising. I snapped out of my trance, and pitched my fly in the middle of the action. BLAM! A fish completely came out of the water to take my fly, and I set the hook fast. This fish was pissed at the world. It leapt out of the water again and again, then bolted downstream so fast that I had hardly had time to adjust my drag to keep it from getting away.

My line was nearly in my backing, and the fish was too far to see as it jumped out of the water. The distant sounds of splashing cracked through the breeze as I scrambled to follow the fish downstream. I was now reeling in fly line fast to land my fish, but it wasn’t giving up that easy. It pulled me further and further downstream, almost to the point where I was half way to the car before I could stand my ground. After an epic battle, I was able to net my fish in almost no light at all. I pulled out my camera to get a picture, but it was too dark: every shot I took came out too blurry to see anything, because the fish was still squirming to get away. I was able to get my fly out of its mouth, and the fish did not hesitate to escape when I dipped the net into the water. 

“Did you get one more?” Eric asked as I approached the car.
“Yes!” I said, and told him the details of the fight. The night temperature had dropped significantly, so we geared down fast to get back to Boise. 
“So, tomorrow we try something new?” Eric asked. 
“Yes, I will take you to an alpine lake near McCall... I know you will love it.” I said. 
“Will Gracy come with us?” He asked. 
“No, because we will go too early for her.” 
“I would like Gracy to come with us, so let’s leave later so she can join us.” 
“I am sure she will like that.” I said, “She will be happy to meet you. She hasn’t seen you ever since you arrived and is starting to think you do not exist. She tole me the other day, when you went to fish the Owyhee on the second day, that I had made you up as an excuse to go fishing for a few days straight.” 
Eric started laughing at this, and said, “Well tomorrow she will know for sure, and we will all go to the alpine lake together.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I said, and we drove home safe and sound. 

A Friend From France: Day 1

If there was a way to make my name any better, all you would need to do is add bacon to it. Last year a fly fisherman from southeast France walked into the fly shop at the end of his yearly visit to the northwest United States, solely to fly fish, and during our fantastic conversation I discovered his name was Eric Bacon. Eric’s friend, Christian Guimonnet, was also there, offering up some of his personally tied flies that were and still are the nicest looking flies I have ever seen. I accepted as many flies as Christian was willing to offer, and gave them some of my favorite flies in exchange. They both had a flight back home to catch, but before they left I offered them a place to stay the next time they came back into the United States to fly fish. 

Well one year later, after a long day of traveling and fly fishing, a muddied up jeep pulled into my driveway. A smile grew on my face when I recognized Eric Bacon behind the bug-covered windshield, and he was also smiling like he had just won the lottery. 

“Erik Moncada!” He yelled in his French accent. 

“Eric Bacon!” I replied, and greeted him like we had been friends our whole lives.

“Where would you like to fish tomorrow?” Eric asked as he brought in his suitcase.

“Hmm, let me think.” I said, and then mentioned his favorite river to fish when he comes to Boise.

“I was hoping you were going to say that.” Eric said with a large smile.

“What time do you want to get going?” I asked.

“Umm, what time is good for you?” Eric asked to be polite, but I knew better; if you looked up fly fishing in the dictionary you would find Eric Bacon’s name, and if I had traveled overseas to get to a fishing destination I wouldn’t want to waste any time.

“Let’s wake up at 5:00 a.m., leave by 5:30 a.m. and fish until we can’t see anymore.” I said quickly and confidently.

Eric just smiled…“I was also hoping you would say that!”

My alarm did not go off at 5:00 a.m, because it didn’t need to. I was already up and had silenced the alarm before it had a chance to chirp, and Eric was not far behind. We had packed his car with our gear the night before, so in the morning we were quick to get going.

The sun hadn’t even began to think of rising as we started our drive to the river. In the dark we were stopped at a stop sign waiting for a pair of headlights to pass, or so I thought.  Eric stepped on the gas to pull out in front of the approaching headlights that were too close for comfort.

“Whoa, do you see that car?!” I yelled, as the breaklight of the car behinds us lit up.

“Oh, yes. It’s okay…” Eric said with no worry in his voice, “… I’m French.” 

We sped away untouched, and I started laughing.

“Was that too close for you?” Eric asked.

“I would have waited for the car to pass.” I said, still smiling about his comment.

“Well if you do not like that, then NEVER drive with an Italian.” This made us both laugh, but Eric was not finished. “My girlfriend back in France, she is Italian.”

“Oh no!” I said, still laughing.

“But…” Eric spoke up louder “…but she knows I am kidding.”

“I’m sure.” I said back.

By the time we had reached the river we could see fish rising, and Eric’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“This is my river!” Eric said happily, and we quickly geared up and headed down to the water.

We saw fish rising before he had gotten to the water, but it was nothing compared to what came next. Tricos, and they were everywhere! The fish were rising all around, and the slurping sound of the high concentration of feeding fish sounded like a dog lapping up water in 7.1 surround sound.

“I have never, in my life, heard this many fish rising at the same time.” Eric said to me as he stood there in awe, but that only lasted for a second. The trico hatch was anticipated; Eric was ready with one of his favorite tricos, and he locked on to a rising fish just upstream.

The key to fully taking advantage of a blanket hatch is being patient enough to select one fish out of the fifty rising in front of you, key into its timing, and presenting a fly to that specific fish’s feeding lane. That was exactly what Eric did, and the fish didn’t even expect the fly to be connected to Eric’s line.

“There!” Eric yelled as he set the hook, and the fish bolted into action.  

Eric was fishing with a 10 foot 3-4 weight Fishbone fly rod from Belgium, and the fish was bending every inch of it. Eric placed his palm on the reel to keep it from back-spooling on him as the fish bolted across the river.

“This is a nice fish.” He said, as he started to quickly reel in his fly line to keep the tension tight. I started to make my way over to him, and when I got close Eric had tired the fish and was just about to net it.

“This is the first picture of my trip that has me holding a fish.” Eric said, “All the rest of them are just pictures of fish.”

“Today we will get plenty of picture of you holding fish.” I said happily, and took a quick shot of Eric before he sent the fish on its way.

With the fish still rising to tricos, there was no time to waste. Selecting a single fish to cast to with every fish rising was a great problem to have, and by the looks if it, Eric was enjoying the opportunities. Fish after fish were being caught, and we wasted little time taking pictures of each one. I did find time to stop fishing and capture some video of Eric catching fish, in between catching and releasing my own fish.

The fish were porposing like dolphins in front of a boat, doing their best to eat every trico floating downstream. When we had caught the five to eight fish rising within casting distance, we moved up or out into the river to pick off the next bunch of rising fish.  It was like we could do nothing wrong...that was, until the sun hit the water.

The once turbulent water created by rising trout was now a silent, placid flow of lifeless water flowing downstream.

“That is amazing, there is nothing now.” Eric said, as he looked over the water for a rising fish.

For a moment both Eric and I were staring forward at a blank canvas until a small lap of disturbed water jolted our vision upstream. It was the unmistakable sound of a rising fish, and we could see the ring it had left behind.

“They are all rising right near the bank.” Eric said, pointing upstream, past the original fish we had just seen rise. Sure enough, there were five or more fish rising just upstream, and right next to the bank.

“You go ahead.” Eric said, and went to step out of my way.

“I can fish here anytime, you go ahead.” I said quickly.

“You do not need to tell me twice!” Eric said with a smile, and pitched his fly out in the fish’s feeding lane. We could easily see Eric’s fly as it floated ever so delicately on the water, and the fish came up to eat it like clockwork.

“ERIC BACON!” I yelled in triumph.

Eric just laughed at my excitement as he fought the fish until it was tired enough to slip into his net.

“What fly is this?” I asked, remembering that Eric had changed his fly just before he made the cast.

“This is my magic fly! We call the Jacques Dauty fly because my friend, Jacques, liked to use it when he came to America to fly fish. Jacques is dead now, but I like to think he is with me when I tie on this fly. He loved this river, and so I know he would want me to catch a fish for him. It is also the fly that I use when I am not sure what the fish are eating. That is why I call it the magic fly.”

“Jacques Dauty’s magic fly…” I said, as Eric took it out of the fish’s mouth. “That is very nice of you to honor and remember your friend. Is this fish for him?”

“Yes, it is a very nice fish.” Eric said, as we both admired his fish still in his net before letting it go.

With another fish rising just upstream, Eric gestured for me to take a shot at catching it. I got into position and made a few casts with no luck. My fly was landing perfectly on the water, but the seams in the water were moving at different rates, causing my fly to get swept away.  I adjusted my cast and made a few more attempts with the fish still not interested.

“You go ahead and try the magic fly.” I said, reeling in my line.

“Okay, but just a second.” Eric said, and clipped off his magic fly to readjust his leader before making his cast.

“This trout is in a spot that requires lots of small tippet…” Eric explained, “… so in order to get the right presentation, for me, I need to make a small adjustment to make it perfect.”

The magic fly was the final touch to Eric’s leader, and he got into position to make his first attempt.  Eric casted and his fly landed in the feeding lane of the trout, and so did a large pile of his small 6X tippet.  I would have never presented my fly directly over the head of the feeding fish, because that is a good way to spook the fish.  

 “No way!” I whispered, as the magic fly drifted down in front of the fish and it ate it. Eric quickly set the hook, and I stood there stunned.

“I thought the fish would spook after that tippet fell over its head.” I said.

“Well, that is why I changed it before I casted, remember? This fish was in a very difficult spot, because of all the shifting currents around it. So in order to get the perfect presentation I had to make my leader much longer with very small tippet so that I could cast over its head without spooking it. And with the longer, smaller tippet my fly would not be so easily swept away by the current.”

“Interesting, I was just manipulating my casting in order to get a good presentation on that fish, but it wasn’t working.” I said.

“Yes, but I am not a very good caster, so I have to do it this way.”

“Well it worked better than my casting.” I said, as Eric brought out his net to land the fish.

After another hero shot for Eric he sent the fish on its way, and it was my turn again. A fish rose more in the center of the river, and although we could still see rising fish near the bank, it was worth pitching a fly over to see if it would eat.

“Would you like to try my fly rod?” Eric asked.

“Sure!” I said, and Eric started manipulating the leader for this specific scenario.

This fish I was about to throw to was not rising steadily; it was coming to the surface sporadically, which meant it was not keyed onto midges. Normally I would tie on a pico spider for this kind of activity, but Eric had something else in mind.

“This is one of my favorite flies that was tied by Christian.” Eric said, taking out a green fly with a small red florescent parachute on top.

“I remember seeing this fly. Christian gave me a few when I met him last year, but it looked too good to fish.” I said.

“You have to fish it, it is a great caddis fly. Christian made this fly perfect, and I use it a lot because I can see the small red top; He said I use this fly more than anyone he knows so he named it after me… it is called the Green Bacon Caddis.” Eric told me with a smile.

“Well now I have to fish it!” I said, and Eric handed me his fly rod.

The French Fishbone fly rod felt like what our American hybrid fly rods were striving for: the long, light-weight rod that can perform both delicate dry fly fishing along with tight-line nymphing with a simple change of leaders. In Eric’s case, he had fashioned himself a leader that required a simple tippet change to switch from nymphing to dry fly fishing in seconds, and you better believe I would get the formula from him before he headed back to France.

It took me a few false casts to get the feel for the fly rod paired with the fifteen-foot leader, but I got it.  The fish had rose once more, so I knew right where I needed to place the fly.

“The Green Bacon Caddis is the type of fly that if a fish wants it, the fish will eat it on the first cast.” Eric said as I laid out the fly.

That means it’s a good searcher fly, or a fly to use when nothing is working or you don’t know what is working."

“Damn…” I said, as my fly missed its mark. The fly was almost a foot too far downstream from the sweet spot. From my past experience, even if you are off the mark, leave the fly on the water because you never know what the fish will do. Out of the depth, both Eric and I watched the fish not only rise, but turn and charge downstream at the Green Bacon Caddis. SMACK!

“YES! The Green Bacon Caddis!” Eric yelled with his hands in the air, and I had set the hook.  

“The fish went completely out of its way to eat your fly!” I said, as the fish thrashed to escape.

“It must like French food!” Eric said with a smile.

“It must.” I said back, and netted the fish to end the fight.

The fish bolted away quickly, and Eric and I took turns picking off fish until there were no more rising. The last fish in that spot was caught with Jacque’s Magic Fly, proving once again that it is a fly worth having. Eric also wanted a hero shot with a fish and his new Fishbone fly rod.

The river was dead. Not only could we not find a rising fish, but 70% of the anglers had left for the day, leaving a large portion of the river available to us. We chose a spot that had been good in the past, but was not paying off today.

“What is that fly you are tying on?” Eric asked, with a hint of wonder in his voice.

“This is a mouse.” I said, as I synched down the knot.

“The fish here eat mice?” He asked, “This I have to see…”

I sent my mouse pattern to the other side of the bank, and started working it back towards me. I quickly explained the theory of mouse fishing, when… Ka-Boom! A fish slammed my mouse, but there was no connection.

“Oh my goodness!” Eric yelled.

“I missed him!” I yelled back, but kept on fishing.

Another explosive take with no connection had me a little discouraged, because I wanted to get a picture with the fly in a fish’s mouth for Eric. Mousing was not happening for me, but it made Eric a believer in using a mouse to fly fish with.

“Never, will you ever find a mouse to fly fish with in France. Nobody will believe that the fish will actually take them.” He said.

“Well, it didn’t work so well for me today, but you can see why I tie a mouse on every once in a while. The takes are so explosive.”

“Yes, I see that now…” Eric said with a smile, and started fishing a small run that looked promising but came up empty handed.

It wasn’t until late in the evening when we started seeing fish rising again. There was a nice baetis hatch popping off, so together Eric and I were switching our patterns to determine exactly what the fish were eating. We each caught a fish or two, but all on flies that only worked once… meaning we hadn’t solved the puzzle of the hatch. Eric hooked into a fish, and after he let it go, he hooked into another one almost immediately.

“Are you still using a midge?” I asked as Eric brought in his fish.

“No, I am using the Magic Fly!”

“Of course you are!” I said happily, and remember I had one attached to the dry patch on my vest. 

I clipped my fly off my line, and held up the Magic Fly to thread the tippet through the eye. The sun had dipped behind the canyon wall a while ago, and it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to see the small eye of the hook to tie it on. After an attempt or two, I finally got the fly tied on and casted out to the nearest rising fish.

Eric had already started heading to the car when I had hooked into my last fish of the day. It was hard to find the hook to take the fly out of the fish’s mouth, but I eventually unhooked the fish and slipped it out of my net.

“Sorry, but I had to catch one more fish before I left the river.” I told Eric who was almost done gearing down.

“I understand...” He said quickly, “I do that all the time. You could have stayed on the river longer if you wanted to.”

“I just needed to catch one more fish.” I said, and unclipped the Magic fly and handed it to Eric.

“Oh yes, thank you.” He said, taking his fly and securely fitting it into his fly box. 

“I will be sure to leave you some Magic flies before I leave for France, but this fly…” He pointed to the one I had just taken off my fly line ”…was tied by Jacques himself before he died.”

The thought of losing the fly suddenly overwhelmed me, because I was fishing in the dark with a knot I hoped was tied correctly… If I had lost this particular fly I would have felt like crap, but lucky for me Eric had it back in his fly box.

“That’s nice.” I said, relieved I hadn’t lost the fly.

“So what are you going to fish tomorrow?” I asked, after our gear was packed up and we were heading out of the canyon.

Eric just looked over and smiled at me…“I think I will come back to hit the tricos again.”

“Sounds like a plan. I work tomorrow, but will be off for the next two days after that to fish the South Fork with you.” I said.

“That sounds good. Today was a good day, and I truly enjoy fly fishing with you.” Eric said.

“I enjoyed fly fishing with you too, and you taught me to look at dry fly fishing in a whole new way… It’s very good stuff.” I said in return, and we drove home so Eric could get to bed and do it all over again tomorrow.