When I first waded into the swift, cold waters of Colorado’s Rio Grande River in 1958, wearing Ked tennis shoes over borrowed stocking foot waders, I hoped to catch a trout… and not fall down and drown. As I became a more proficient wader and angler I started hoping to catch a limit of trout. As the years rolled by I caught many limits of trout. I ate some and released more. I’m ashamed …but not much… to say I gloried in sometimes being that guy on the stream who caught trout when no one else could. But I was nice about it. I willingly shared my home-tied flies with other anglers. Now that I’m eighty years old I find once again that I hope to catch a trout … and not fall down and drown.
I’ve come full circle.