For years growing up, my Dad would take me fishing; pull me out of school to fish the Snake or pack in on horseback to fish Baileys Lake. Sometimes it was a walk through the pasture to fish on the banks of the Salt River right at dusk. Of course, there were always the highly anticipated fishing trips with my Uncle K floating the Salt River in Star Valley as well.
Over the years the stories, as most fish stories go, grow in intensity. There are several facts that remain and will never be disputed. I’ll explore three of my favorites.
1. We (Dad, Uncle K, and I) were almost responsible for the demise of Delbert Wright.
2. I came to the realization that a fishing pole is more important than my well being.
3. You can catch a fish with one hand holding the fishing pole while using the other hand to aid in relieving yourself…or go number #1 as it is commonly referred.
1. Delbert Wright was a wonderful and gentle old man. He was very bull-legged and Uncle K had made a bench that fit across the boat as to allow Delbert to sit and fish the river, while we floated down. Delbert loved to fish and knew pretty much everything that there was to know. Often times he would point at a place in the river, nudge me and say “Watch this…I’m pulling one out of that hole.” Every time, his cast was true, the bait floated calmly into the hole and bingo…Delbert would reel in a keeper. One fine sunny summer day, Dad, Uncle K, Delbert, and myself set out for a 3 hour tour…much like Gilligan. I’m sure there was hay to bale or haul, but it could wait, we had more important duties to attend to. As we were floating down the river, it split. (This is where the story might be different depending on who tells it.) As I recall, Dad was rowing and set out to go down one side, of the river. Midway across, Uncle K directs Dad to the other side, because that was where the best fishing was. Dad was giving it all he had to get us across the river and to the other channel. Unfortunately, the river swept us right up into a big Willow tree that was the dividing point in the river. We started taking on the entire Salt River in the boat. Through the chaos and mania….all was saved. Afterwards, Delbert simply said, “Ralph, let’s not try that again.”
2. It
didn’t matter what the weather was doing, my Uncle K was always up for a fishing trip. One early June day, the weather was overcast, cold, and a slight drizzle was falling. We
couldn’t hay; Mother Nature was doing the irrigating, so we might as well go fishing. Dad, Uncle K, and I loaded up and decided we would float from the Narrows to the Thayne Bridge. The sky was really dark and it was quite cold for an early summer day, so I had an older wool jacket on. The river was still high and there were several areas where the banks had fallen off into the river. Just past the 2
nd bridge, near Salt River Heights, we encountered pretty fast water. Uncle K was rowing and Dad & I were doing the best we could to a) Stand upright and b) cast into the holes that were so rapidly passing us by. In an instant, the boat came to a standstill. I proved Newton correct again, because my body stayed in motion all the way out of the drift boat and into the raging river. Instantly I forgot about everything and mentally entered survival mode. Here I was, fully dressed with a wool coat on, in raging water and what do I hear when I finally surface…? My Dad and Uncle K “yelling” at me directing me to where my pole is floating. Forget the pole and come and get me I thought. In order to survive, I had to make haste and head towards the pole, because that is which way my Dad, Uncle K, and the BOAT were going!!
3. Several times during a floating trip down the river, we would need to row towards shore for one reason or another. It may be because someone caught a snag and broke their line. It may be because someone had caught a fish and needed to re-bait before continuing on. One such instance had us docked in near the bank. I decided to try and catch a fish while everyone else was preoccupied. I walked out of the boat and cast my line, allowing it to drift down river. I had the fishing pole in one hand and needed to dispense of the Shasta Ginger Ale that I had consumed an hour prior. So there I was…
couldn’t have picked my nose for a million dollars. Without fail, a fish took my bait and I was able to set the hook one handed, but that was it. I decided that I needed to land this fish. Only problem was, that the Ginger Ale
wasn’t finished exiting my body. I figured gravity could help me take care of the remainder of the fluid, so with both hands, I triumphantly reeled in my best catch of the day. Solution to the earlier problem…walk out into deeper water and cleanse all evidence of mishap!!
Looking back, at every adventure, it was never really about who would catch the biggest fish or even catching a fish at all. Each experience was a precious moment in time that I can relive each and every day. The company that I kept during my fishing adventures, my Dad, my Uncle K, brothers, cousins, and friends alike. The beauty of the land that we were surrounded by and the talks we had in the truck or by the fire can never be taken from me. Those are the things that I remember the most.
