When our son Josh was transitioning from a teenager to an adult he tested out a series of sports including: cycling, triathlon training, playing paintball on a tournament team, indoor climbing, backcountry hiking, rock climbing, winter camping, ice climbing, wilderness skiing, sky diving, bridge jumping, and wing suiting. As a family we started referring to his latest endeavor as his new “new thing.” This past April I heard Josh say, “I can’t participate in any of my hobbies. An accident with a hospital stay during COVID-19 would be “too risky.” Just for clarification, Josh doesn’t believe jumping out of an airplane at 14,000 feet is dangerous. He just doesn’t want to end up in the hospital with a minor injury during the COVID-19 era.
Josh needed a new challenging outdoor activity. Late one Spring Friday evening, as we were sitting in the living room discussing potential weekend plans, Josh casually mentioned to his dad, “I’ve always wanted to try fly fishing.”
Joe perked up and answered, “Me too!” The duo went all in, first watching a series of how to videos on YouTube, then contacting a local outdoors store and setting up a virtual discussion on equipment options. Josh and Joe placed a curb side pick-up order, practiced the seven-step casting technique in the backyard for an hour or two, and then went to the Boardman River to try their luck.
For three hours they walked the river, lost flies, and learned a lot about knot tying. When Joe came home he said, “I loved fishing. For an afternoon, I forgot about the news and the virus. Life felt normal.”
Even though they haven’t seen many fish, on clear sky weekend afternoons they head to a river. Jonah, our youngest son, saw a photo of Josh kitted out in his new gear and said, “That looks cool. I want to try fly fishing.” Since Jonah’s birthday was on the horizon, Joe placed an equipment order for Jonah. Over the Memorial Day weekend, Joe enjoyed the company of both his sons in the Boardman River. It was the perfect place for a social distancing meet-up.
Josh was fishing by himself in Shalda Creek on a June evening when he finally got to say, “Fish on!” He’s still working on his identification skills, so we don’t know what he pulled out of his net. Someday soon, I’m sure they’ll bring home a “mess of fish.”
