It’s always difficult to say goodbye. But I am grateful for these last few weeks we’ve shared together. And I’ll look forward to the next reunion.
It’s going to be several months until we meet up again. But you can rest assured that I’ll often think about you, and I’ll be wishing you well in the interim.
After all, I owe you so very much.
For starters, you played a key role in introducing me to a young woman I fell in love with when I was in college. She’s now been my wife for 36 years.
As such, you made me a part of another family. You also introduced me to many new friends—too many to count.
You taught me about traditions and instilled a deep appreciation of nature. You prompted me to take time to pause look around, no matter where I might be.
Your allure pulled me off the pavement and planted my boots in free-flowing waters. Every time I go fishing, wherever I am, when I step into a river and feel the cool currents gently swirling around my legs, I appreciate that sensation like no other, and I inevitably think about you.
To be honest, you also taught me most of what I now know about fly fishing, most of that by trial and error. What’s more, you set me down a path of fishing discovery and adventure I could not have even imagined the first time I met you.
Heck, you even prodded me down a professional career path—writing stories about fly fishing, and that’s led me all over the world. I guess someone had to “take one for the team,” so I did. Thanks for inspiring me to chase that dream.
You taught me the true purpose of fly fishing, and how wonderful fly fishing really is when you take time to look around, soak in the traditions, feel the forces of nature and let all that stuff shape your soul.
You brought me closer to God and renewed a sense of spirituality at times when I needed that most. I mean, I feel closer to God when my boots are planted in the current than when my butt is planted in a church pew, but through your very existence, you made me better appreciate the value of both.
You’ve given me memories… oh, so many wonderful memories. You might also remember some of them… there was that big ‘ol brown trout that ate a gray drake against the log, just below the cabin porch. Nobody but you and I thought there could possibly be a fish there, but you encouraged me to try a cast, and bam!
There was also that late season steelhead that ate a black woolly bugger in a deep run, and after a frantic fight, I grabbed it by the tail, unhooked it and let it go. I didn’t have a camera, so I never took a photo. I didn’t want to kill the fish, so I just released it. Nobody (maybe Grandpa) believed that I actually landed that big steelhead when I told them the story.
But you did. We both know what truly happened. We share a lot of secrets now, don’t we?
You’ve been a wonderful home river. You’re a friend, a confidant, a mentor and a constant source of inspiration.
Even if you’ll never be world-famous, you’re the most important stretch of water on the planet in my eyes, and I love you with all my heart.
So, rest easy under what I hope to be a thick blanket of snow this winter. And when you wake up, I hope you wake up with vigor. Ready to roll. And know that not long after, I’ll be there to greet you. And we’ll endeavor to write yet another wonderful chapter of this life story together.
-Kirk Deeter
