My home-water, the Potomac River, is far from trout country (although TU’s restoration work in the headwaters has anglers now catching native brook trout). This spring, the Friends of Fletcher’s Cove hosted a day on the Potomac for kids from D.C. who had never been near the river, much less caught fish from it.
On her third cast, the special needs seventh grader I had in my boat caught her first American shad. A few minutes later she said, “this is the best day I have had in many years!” That day was not possible without champions such as Rob Catalanotto, Chris Campo and other members of the Friends of Fletcher’s Cove.
One of the worst TU board meetings I ever attended was when the Washington Council was thrown out of the organization because of their opposition to various TU policies. More than a dozen years later, the Washington Council won our Council of the Year award thanks to the leadership of Pat Hesselgesser and other volunteers. She made it her calling to increase volunteer participation and enthusiasm through conservation initiatives such as identifying culverts that blocked salmon passage and stopping suction dredge mining on salmon rivers in the state.
Sharon Lance was one of the first TU volunteers I ever met. She helped to start the Colorado Youth Camp and served on the Board of Trustees before winning the Mortenson award, TU’s highest volunteer honor. A few years ago, she said to me, “Some people fish all their lives and realize it is not the fish they are after. Well, I have not reached that point yet. I really do enjoy catching fish.”
Last week, I asked my friends, Todd Corayer and Glenn Place, to recommend a guide in Rhode Island for a longtime TU donor. Todd is a gifted outdoor writer and Glen is the irrepressible president of Rhode Island Chapter 225. When the guide, Ed Lombardo, found the donor simply wanted to show his grandson the Wood River, he gifted the trip.
When Fran Smith returned from the Vietnam War, he was looking for volunteer opportunities when he wasn’t working as a master plumber. Fran and dozens of others took on the task of turning a cranberry bog back into a river. Decades later, thanks to their efforts, the Quashnet River is flourishing with a healthy population of salter brook trout.
Champions for our rivers and streams are not all volunteers. Without the efforts of Senator Martin Heinrich (D-NM) and Jim Risch (R-ID), Congress would not have passed Good Samaritan legislation that makes it easier for organizations such as Trout Unlimited to clean up abandoned hard rock mines.
Being a champion can take many forms. I think of the attorneys at Sheppard Mullin who agreed to successfully represent TU in our litigation to stop the Pebble Mine in Alaska. I think of the quiet and tireless efforts of my friend, Bill Lamberson, who has built and donated more than 85 bamboo rods to support Trout Unlimited priorities. I think of other friends such as Tom Stoddard, Tony James and Richard Johnson who have made TU among their highest philanthropic priorities. This column would be incomplete without mentioning the contributions of Charles Gauvin, the CEO who built TU into a conservation powerhouse.
Every employee of TU is a champion. Pat Byorth in Montana is the only person I know who became a biologist and then decided to get a law degree so he could better advocate for rivers. For more than 20 years, Sam Davidson has been a tireless advocate for California’s public lands, including playing a key role in the designation of the Sattitla Highlands National Monument. Holly Smith is more than a grant accountant. She is the conductor that helps keep all the trains on time in the eastern region of TU.
Even if I haven’t mentioned you, look in the mirror. What you see is a champion.