How it all began

When I was a kid in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania, fishing was always a part of my life, even before my memory allows me to recall it. My earliest memories of the opening day of fishing season must date back to when I was between the ages of 6 and 7 years old. The first day of trout is a known day on the calendar. It usually signaled the arrival of Spring. Getting to the creek early to claim a spot, I was often told to be still and quiet. Regardless of what the weather was, I knew I was going to be at the edge of the water well before the sun comes up. I remember having to be prepared for all kinds of weather. Most of the time it was either raining or a high chance of rain. I can recall a few first days with snow falling from the sky and a few inches of snow on the ground. I remember a particular year falling in when it was snow-covered and below freezing temps. This resulted in me having to wait in the car with the heater running to warm up while my father fished.

On the first day, you can't have a line in the water until 8:00 AM. Many men stand around various holes to fish for stocked trout. Salmon eggs, red worms, or maggots were the baits of choice for me. Many would limit out within a few hours. It was a rare feat for me as I was growing up. My father would do so in about an hour. If I wasn't at 7 fish by the time he was, I had to clean what I had and off we went. This was trout fishing to me. That is what I had exposure to. Needless to say, I didn't enjoy it much. Bass fishing was a different story. We had access to lakes that I wish I could go back in time knowing what I know now to fish.

Throughout the majority of my childhood, this was the type of fishing I did. We can only know what we have been made aware of. While all of the things that I just described were taking place in my life, I had the opportunity to observe something that would later turn into a passion for me.

If you have ever done any traveling in Southwestern Pennsylvania, you very well could of driven by the place my passion for fly fishing was born. Traveling west on the Lincoln Highway, a few miles from the small town of Ligonier, the highway divides for Loyalhanna creek. For a few miles, you're able to look down onto the water. It was here, I was able to spot a fly fisher and the seed was planted. The unique cast looked poetic. I didn't know how, but that was going to be me someday. Sometime after I saw that particular angler, I was given a fly rod that was no longer being used in the family. I remember the line being old and cracked. It didn't have a leader, so I tied on some mono. I remember my first fly being a popper. Since no one in my family fly-fished, and the internet wasn't a thing yet, as I'm sure you can imagine, I struggled. Only so much that you can learn from books at the young age of 8.

This passion sat dormant for years. I moved to the mountains of Colorado in early 2007, not far from Winter Park. Skiing was the main reason for the move. In the spring of that year, I took a fly fishing guided trip on the headwaters of the Colorado River. The bass angler in me did manage to catch some trout that day. I would fish those waters a few other times with friends during my time in Colorado, enjoying each outing. Unfortunately, my mind was elsewhere and I didn't take part in the access that I had at the time. I will say, since then, I have had fly fishing in my life to some degree. Building my knowledge in some way, shape, or form.

In July 2015 I took a long weekend and headed to Belize. I fell in love with the island of Caye Caulker. I went back to spend 2 weeks in December of that same year. While there I spent a lot of time in a hammock. When I wasn't in a hammock, I was on a boat searching the flats for bonefish. During my time in Belize, I was able to determine the direction my life was going to take. After my first full day on the boat, my time in the hammock went from reading and napping to daydreaming. How I could replicate what I was experiencing on the island in everyday life? At the time I had a kayak and was frequently bass fishing. I had also been to the coast a few times to fish for redfish off the jetties. When I got back, that was the signal to cut ties to my spinning gear and concentrate on fly fishing. A year later, I bought a skiff. I keep it along the Texas coast. I have had it here in central Texas from time to time, but it is built and designed for saltwater. Sight fishing Texas redfish is something that will never get tired of.

For the last couple of years, I've held a monthly class introducing people to the sport. I am always happy to share my contact information with people at the end of class. Some students will take my class and run with it. It's not uncommon I get random photos of fish from numbers that I don't know. Later in the day, that number will follow up by saying, "Hey, I took your class a few months back and I was on a guided fly trip today. This was the first fish I caught and wanted to share it with you." It's these moments that continue to push me to do what I've been doing.

There is something about being in nature. That experience is magnified when you have a running stream at your feet and a fly rod in your hand. I look forward to what experiences this blog brings to me. The adventures it takes me on and the pure moments of peace I get to experience.

Oh, yea...a fish here and there won't hurt either!