|Al as a 2009 CfR River Helper|
Cody Bell was nowhere to be found, neither was his chair, his 4# rod, my 4# rod; no sign of the Boy anywhere. So I headed back down to the river and continued to walk farther downstream. As I walked along the elevated path, I noticed some beautifully deep runs that just looked fishy from the bank. I ended up almost to the second and most visible Dinosaur tracks, and there were a slew of Boy Scouts (skipping stones upstream--ugh!), and I knew Cody Bell would be nowhere around that place. I headed back up to towards the pavilion and finally ran into my man. Cody had been hiking, and he was tired and sweaty and not dressed to fish. I listened to his tale, and the man must have hiked a mile or so around this section of river--crazy, yes!
Cody and I met up on the path, and I had fished past dinner. I changed clothes, talked with friends, enjoyed the raffles, and tried to snap some photos, but my camera battery is way past needing a charge--it is d-e-a-d! Someone found and turned in my fly box, so I was able to get it back. We vowed to see friends on the water, at rod-building, or at the next meeting, and off for home we went. When I think back on the day, the camaraderie, the laughter, the fun, and the fish, I know Al was once again with his fly fishing club.