First Fishing Trip.

         Blue skies and crystal water greeted us as the truck rumbled to a stop. This lake hadn't been fished in fifteen years by anyone. Just a few eagles circling above, the granddaughter, me, and call of the wild were all who were here.

         It was the first nice day of spring in those Idaho mountains with snow still on the surrounding peaks. My four year old fishing buddy was hopping ready to finally fish with me after a long winter of stories and promises. Her questions were as bright as the smile on her angelic face, expelled like a rapid fire machine gun.

         A few simple instructions, she baited her hook not minding the breaking of the worm and made a fairly decent cast. I was filled with joy and humbled by thankfulness as life afforded us this wonderful day together.

         The trout were just starting to rise and their rings were within a foot of her line, I could feel my heart starting to pound as she squealed and laughed as each one broke the surface of the glass topped lake.

         Suddenly a monster hit her line. Her drag making a wild zipping sound. Her eyes flew wider than they'd ever been. She tried to reel in but the heat of the moment her hand froze at the twelve o'clock position. Dropping my pole and running toward her I watched as she just turned laughing and ran, pole, fish, and all up the path behind us. She was halfway back to the truck before I could get her to stop dragging that poor fish.

         Jumping, squealing, laughing and bubbling she hovered over a beautiful eighteen inch Rainbow Trout. One, which to this day, she does not hesitate to tell me was the biggest of the day.

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