One of the hardest things for my poor hubs when we lived in Boston was how tough it was for him to get to a river and fish. We made it to the Battenkill river in Vermont one time, but walked away only catching one little trout. We were supposed to deep sea fish in Maine once, but missed our window of opportunity. We talked time and time again about trying our hand at salmon fishing, but again, it just never happened.
Day one since our return to Arkansas, Jacob has been planning this fishing trip. In fact, the planning started before we even entered the state. So last Friday morning we loaded up our car with fishing poles and camping goods and said goodbye to technology for a few days. We stopped at the War Eagle Craft Fair on our drive up North where I picked up antique trinkets for my printer’s tray, freshly milled organic flour, an antique book shaped as the letter “D,” and a handful of other goodies. After a few hours of wandering the endless rows of craft booths, we ended our afternoon with a drive through the chilly rain and colorful mountains. A few hours later we were greeted by our cozy campsite by the river, and a handful of our closest friends.
We watched the rain on Friday night sipping warm, mulled wine. On Saturday, we awoke to darkness and to the quite conversation between two wise owls. We ate breakfast at the local greasy spoon during sunrise, and had claimed our spot on the river before the clouds broke. We spent a cold and bitter morning on the water reeling in fish after fish. We warmed ourselves with laughter, and called it a day before noon. We had caught our limit, and it was time to see what was up with the rest of the crew.
During the afternoon I sat wrapped in my sleeping bag, lounging in my cozy camp chair. I soaked up the sun, reading my book, and listening to the laughter of friends. We visited the fish hatchery with our friend’s two-year-old son, and later cheered him on as he caught fish wish his dad. We celebrated his birthday with cake before dinner, and spent our evening crowded around a crackling fire, eating smores, and sipping more warmed wine.
We finished off the weekend on Sunday with some fishing on the banks before we called it a day and headed home. We left feeling full of gratitude, thankful for a weekend on the river with friends, a bit sad that it was already over, but anxious to do it all again.
VERY nice fish. Thanks for the pictures, as I was born in MD and have lived here in the West, I love streams, barns and miss the nature of the slow life.