I am not entirely sure how, “memoirs”, are supposed to be written. I want this project to be more fun than work, so I will be typing the stories as they come to mind. That being said. The next thing, chronologically, I remember was…
After the first lesson, and I lost a bunch of Jim’s flies; he handed me the Berkley “Cherrywood” fly rod, and said.
“Here, take this home with you, and practice.”
I accepted the rod, and could scarcely wait to get home to work on my casting skills; and I did, rain or shine. With practice I eventually was able to dampen the bullwhip crack, and with visits to a couple of fly-fishing stores in the Southeast Michigan area, I was able to pick up tips to improve my casts, and after some consideration and research at the local fishing stores, I selected a pair of waders with boots, and a Pflugger 5-6 wt. starter kit which had all of the essential items; rod, reel, fly line, backing, leader, a wee amount of tippet, and a few flies to play with; which were needed to get a person started in the fly-fishing game.
After some discussion with my dear, sweet, lovely wife; we decided a camping trip to the Upper Peninsula’s, Two-Hearted River would be a fun get away for the Memorial Day weekend. We could camp, see the sights, look for rocks on the lake shore, and do some fishing where Hemingway was noted to have fished. I even expressed my hope of being able to catch enough fish to feed us over the holiday weekend.
It was at this point that Jim offered some insight.
“Fly-fishing isn’t about catching your limit.” He said. Then paused thoughtfully for a moment, then added. “You might want to take a sandwich.”
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