I woke up as the car pulled off the gravel road and came to a stop. I think the first thing that hit my awareness was the subtle pain in my stomach indicating lunch time. It’s annoying that so much of my life revolves around food.

I looked at the camping spot. There was a small stream surround by rocks and green vegetation and pine trees. Below the trees was flat ground cushioned by a bed of old pine needles. It wouldn’t be hard to find somewhere to put a tent. Finally there was a ring of stones where other people had enjoyed a camp fire. In other words the camp was quaint. But just beyond the camp the forest was stark. Past the stream, and behind us, the trees were no more than tall black poles running up to the mountain. Two years ago if we had been standing in this place, we wouldn’t have been there long. The fire’s signature still dominated the landscape, and the straight, tall, black trees looked eerie. I looked back to the stream, where the trees were still alive and comforting.

Since my first thought was of food, my second was that we should set up the tent and eat as soon as possible, but Dave walked over to the stream to look, and I followed, knowing he would make fun of me for impatiently craving food. And I like streams. There was a log across the stream and my heart beat faster at the thought I might have to cross it. We walked toward that log and Dave took a few steps out.

For a moment we just looked at the stream in silence. It was peaceful and reassuring. Then Dave tensed. “Is that a fish…or is it just a stick?” I looked into the water squinting but saw only shadowy rocks. “I think that’s a fish!” he said, growing excited. I said nothing, but still stared trying to see this so called fish. “Do you see it? It’s big!”

Oh great, now it’s a big fish that I can’t see. I considered just nodding my head and pretending I saw it, but decided against it. “No, where?”

“It’s right there,” he said pointing. I squinted and scrunched up my nose, but that didn’t make the fish appear either. “Do you see that rock?” I nodded. “Straight down from there. It’s probably 20 inches! I’m going to catch it!”

He hopped off the log and hurried over to the car and began to unpack the fishing supplies. Oh, great I thought, we’re never going to eat lunch. But then Dave was so excited about this fish, I could help getting a little excited too. “Put on your glasses, then you might be able to see it.”

I grabbed my glasses as he went to take another look. “You can see it really well from here,” he said. “Come look.” Now he was standing near a flat rock on the bank, leaning against a sap covered pine. With glasses on I joined him and once again squinted in the direction he pointed. “Don’t let it see you.”

Only rocks again, just as I was prepared to pretend and give up, I thought I saw a fin connected to one of those rocks. And then another fin and a tail. “I see it!” Dave was already at the car pulling out is fly rod. I’d never seen him catch a fish with it before.

“Here, thread this for me while I wash the sap off my hands.” I took the 9 foot rod and began to thread the line. While he finished I grabbed the camera, ready to catch a picture of this fish as soon as my Dave caught it.

Dave stood on the flat rock and I stood on the log. Without realizing it, I was standing a couple feet out, balanced and calm, despite my terror of logs. Dave muttered a few things as he thought out a strategy, but soon he was flicking is line above the water just enough so that it didn’t get caught in the trees. The fish, which never moved, disappeared each time the sun came out.

At first Dave’s excitement was contagious. I stood opposite with camera on and waiting. He moved spots, so I moved. I closed the camera realizing this might take awhile, and I would probably have time to turn it on if he caught the fish. He switched flies. At one point the fish moved like it was going towards the fly, and then settled down into its resting place. Dave’s fly kept drifting right over his head, and he didn’t do a thing.

My excitement began to wane and I wondered how long he would try. I started looking away and thinking again about my neglected stomach. Maybe the fish was dead. I sure would like a bagel sandwich right about now.

Simultaneously I heard Dave and a splash, “there’s another one!” I looked over and there was the back of a fish, thrashing in the water. “I got him!” I opened the camera. Dave began to real him in and it looked pretty standard to me. “I don’t have a net,” he said.

“Just pull him on shore.” Obviously. The fish seemed okay with this idea at first, but then took off down stream under the log, pulling the line as he swam. Dave let out a yell. Why didn’t he just real in the line, I thought. That’s what I would do.

“He’s going under that log! I don’t know if I can get him,” Dave said as the fish moved farther down stream. Dave ducked under the large log he had been standing on. “I don’t know how to get around this bush.”

I do, I thought. There was a bush on the bank blocking is way, keeping him from following his fish. “Through the water.”

He stepped in and said, “I guess I have other shoes that will be dry. I followed on shore. He fought the fish, reeling in, and letting some be pulled out as I stood ready with the camera in hand. “I wish I had a net,” he said in the heat of the battle. “I might need you to hold this.”

He held the rod toward me and I dropped the camera into my pocket. Just then the fish put in a burst and Dave yanked it away from me to fight more. Finally he handed me the rod. “You have to hold both,” he said, indicating the rod and the line. I held it making sure not to let that fish have one inch. Dave pulled it on shore and grabbed it, while I again took out my camera. “It’s huge.”

It was huge, and a different shape than the fish we had caught before. And shaped differently too. Something about the fins, and it was lean but big. It reminded me of a shark, I don’t know why. It had orange spots on it’s gray skin. Dave didn’t know what it was.

Like a fish out of water, at first it was calm as he held it, but then with the camera ready it jumped out of his has onto the bank. I hate that. Don’t the fish know they are likely to kill themselves like that. It always reminds me of the 3 goldfish I had for 8 months. Whenever I cleaned the tank they’d try jump out and I was always sure they were going to die. My family thought I did it on purpose. They called me fish killer. None of their fish live eight months though. I hated those fish.

Dave lunged after the fish and grabbed it. In the jump the fish had become unhooked, so the pole fell uselessly to the ground. I held up the camera as Dave clutched the slippery creature. “Let me take another one, just in case.” I took a second.

“Get a picture of just the fish.” He struggled to hang on. “Hurry, I don’t want it to be out of water too long.” I took the picture. He bent down to let it go. “Take some of me letting it go.” I snapped a couple as he held the fish in the water. It same away up stream, disappearing in seconds.

Dave was ecstatic. “Did you see that fish? Did you see that fish that I caught? It might have been 2 feet!” He picked up the rod. The fly was gone, broken off by the fish at some point. “I lost a good fly,” he said. “I would have had a souvenir.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wasn’t it worth it?” He smiled and nodded. We walked back toward the car.

“That made the whole trip worth it,” he said. He was happier than almost any other time I had seen him. That made the whole trip worth it. “I’m starving,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

Finally!