Been a slow year on the blog, for that I apologize. Frankly, my energy has been spent elsewhere, which I don't regret. I'm also about to take off for Alaska with some good friends. This trip is a repeat from several years ago with my dad, and while I am excited to see that great state again, I'm a little nervous as well. I'm bringing my dad with me, intending to spread his ashes on many of the places he loved. This will be a bittersweet trip, but I plan to do my best to focus on the moment and find the joy...that is what my dad would have done.
We all fly to Anchorage on Sept. 12th and I'm sure I'll have something to say about this trip. I've been reading through the old reports (Sept. of 2011 if anyone is interested) and found this comment from my dad. He really was the best.
It was a trip that was truly an adventure as
well as just plain fun. It was comically difficult for John to have the guides
do everything for him (I loved being pampered totally!) and he was always
jumping out of the boat in the middle of the river to cast or land a fish
(which is normally fully frowned upon and not allowed. One can wade fish fine
but it begins after going to shore and having a steady platform to exit and
reenter). After the first day, the word got around that his ol' man didn't
worry about him drowning and was secretly hoping he'd slip and soak himself so
they just put up with it and hoped he didn't break an ankle during landings. We
had a woderful time and we didn't even have to untangle the fly lines when John
wasn't paying attention and cast when I was casting to poach a fish in front of
him. When he would whine about me supposed to be fishing out and down from the
boat, I would just turn off my hearing aids.
Every single lunch break, a fabulous affair with
each item served by the guide as I relaxed in wonderful style, John would keep
fishing. Of course he'd hook one just as my coffee was being poured or the
guide was fixing my soup after handing me a huge sandwich and they would get
this anxious look to grab the net and move to the action. I pointedly informed
them that this was a Union Shop and they were entitled to serve me and enjoy
their own meal and forget about John. He could land his own fish or loose them!
We were going to have lunch! So, to compromise, the guides ate fast. John beached
many a bruiser anyway and always held the fish up trying to make me jealous or
something. I'd raise my coffee cup to acknowledge that yes, I did see that
battle.
The Reel John Montana
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