First Trip Since the Death of my Father....
 

I'm sure that in my former life, I was a trout....for I have always loved
rivers and the environs in which trout are found. The earliest photo I have
of myself was taken by my mom as I lay in my dad's fishing creel in 1948,
the year of my birth, as he held the creel lovingly in his hands. That
black and white photo found its way into the front window display of "Dillon
Weatherby Sporting Goods", a store that was at it's peak in Eureka,
California in those days. Such began a lifelong pursuit of fish with a
fly...with my dad at my side. We both had a passion for the sport. It was
more than "catching fish" as I slowly began to realize as I grew into my
teen years. He used fly fishing to teach my brother and I about life...and
he did it very well. I took my dad on our last fly fishing trip at the end
of last year. We tried to tempt some salmon on the Smith River in
California (near my home in Hiouchi) to take a fly. We didn't succeed...but
my dad enjoyed himself for the first time in many months. He was suffering
from congestive heart failure and our fly fishing during his last year
consisted mostly of reminiscing. He gave me a great life and a passion for
not only fly fishing but for life. All life has purpose and all life has
value. He taught me this just as he taught me how to double haul into a
heavy wind, tie flies with enough skill to supplement my income during my
college years by selling them to various "clients" in the Eureka area. I am
now retired, living on the banks of the Smith River and trying to make it
"my river" just as my dad made the Eel River his river. The two of us
watched the slow demise of that river and I know that pain that he felt as a
result. My dad died on June 6th at 8:15 a.m. as I held him in my arms. I
miss him more than any words can describe. But...he was 85 years old and in
ill health...and his quality of life was not good. He fished with some of
the great fisherman of the Pacific Northcoast and introduced me to them
along the way. Lloyd Sylvius, C.Jim Pray and others. I even managed to
acquire a fly fishing outfit belonging to Zane Gray....who fished the Eel
River regularly during his days of active fishing. He stayed at Weymouth
Inn, which burned down in the 50's. But....I still have the fishing outfit,
a nice Heddon Black Beauty fly rod and an old Pflueger Medalist reel. I
only recently re-acquired the Heddon rod as it was at my dad's house in his
vast accumulation of fly fishing gear....which I inherited when he died.

Attached is a photo of my dad and me in the late 60's when we were
aggressively fishing for a variety of fish on a fly...and I had just begun
my classes at University of Humboldt (at that time it was Humboldt State
College).

I will never watch a damsel fly nymph erratically swimming through the water
without recalling my dad's rather long explanation of its life cycle. He
was particularly fond of damsel flies for some reason...although he did like
the dance of the Mayflies as well. I learned so much from him....but at the
top of the list is that all life has a purpose and all life has a value. He
subscribed to the theory that the Universe tends to move toward order rather
than chaos. He was passionate about a lot of things...politics, ecology,
football and, of course, fly fishing. My den now looks like a small tackle
shop.

I miss him so damn much....

Barry