One of my earliest and certainly most vivid fishing memories occurred at buffalo ford in I think 1956. I know that because we were on the quintessential family camping vacation in our brand new 56 chevy. This was not a fishing vacation but dad always had his fly rod packed just in case. We arrived at the Ford in the middle of one of those legendary blizzard salmon fly hatches. There were bugs all over the road, the car, and if you got out, you. Well dad just couldn't stand it and begged forgiveness from mother and we stopped to fish. I sat in the car and watched dad gear up, wade into the stream, and land and release fish after fish after fish and ended up with 3 nice 15 or 16 inch cutts for dinner. (yes you could keep some back then) All the time this man who was my father had the biggest grin on his face I had ever seen and it stayed there for hours after. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Being about 9 at the time, I had done my share of fishing with dad and even tried out the fly rod a few times but as much as I pleaded, he wasn't about to let me wade into that strong river. Besides, there was only one fly rod and that was that.

I already loved fishing but this event more than any other cemented in me a life long desire for the fly rod. So what is lost when a great fishery declines? Well who knows how many might have experienced it and been hooked for life but weren't.

Thanks Deanna for writing this piece. It brought back memories.