The Tradition Lives

Ever since 2001, I have enjoyed a tradition begun by my older brother Kevin: an annual Hegewald guys-only fishing trip. It started when Kevin had just graduated from med school and yearned to get "back to his roots" as he likes to call it. His roots are in the Wasatch. But for him the local hills were not enough; he wanted Alaska. It was a fabulous trip with me, Kevin, Zak, Gordon, and Bruce, all orchestrated by Kevin. We haven't missed a year since. We have been all over the West, sometimes with a lot of family, some times just him and I. And the older I get, the more I realize it wasn't about the fishing; it was about the getting out together. If we did that, in this demanding, overscheduled, stressful world, the trip was already a success. In fact, last year we included some of Kevin's posterity up on The Green.

I am pleased to tell you all, and especially Kevin, that the tradition he forged still lives on. His vision has not been diluted The only difference is now Kevin was looking on from above, as he fishes the eternally clear waters from The Other Side. He would have absolutely been at this trip had he had the opportunity; front and center rallying the troops, flirting with cashiers in Mountain View, WY; with his classic Hegewald overstated smile. That smile is accentuated when fish and family come together in the outdoors.

Abe, Zak, Mario, and myself comprised the group this year, as we floated from the dam down to Little Hole. The dynamic always shifts a little bit, but that is what makes it intriguing.

The fishing was slow at first. The Green is a temperamental stream. Despite 6000 fish per mile, they can be picky, lazy, and downright slothful pigs, especially on bright, hot, sunny days (which are nonetheless gorgeous!).

But for the patient, it paid off. Speaking of patience, here is a nice brown from Zak.

Abe got the award for most improved and for the best form, just like when he displays his golf swing.

Mario, the oldest and wisest, gets the best sportsmanship award. He feigns interest in fly-fishing, and usually only comes out for this trip after I really have to talk up the river, and maybe tempt him with a round of 18 holes if "we have time afterwards" (which we never do, but it's still fun for Mario to dream).

After spending the majority of the day rowing, tangle un-doing, coaching, stressing about hitting rocks, and sweating in general, I was even rewarded with a beautiful rainbow in the perfectly still twilight of the evening at Little Hole.

We left the river on a high note, with no serious boat or flesh injuries, exhausted and famished, even better brothers in arms. Till next year, tight lines brothers. And Mario, I "promise" we'll sneak in that round of 18 if it's the last thing I do...