Monday Memory

My dad, Brent Thomas, was many things. One being a dad to three daughters. Another being a fisherman extraordinaire. He combined the two splendidly and made fishing part of our childhood. I took a sincere interest in it and learned to fish streams, lakes, reservoirs & rivers.

On this particular fishing trip, we traveled up to The Henry's Fork in Island Park Idaho. My dad felt at home there, making many, many trips there and forming many friendships over many years. He was involved in the Henry's Fork Foundation and had offers of becoming an outfitter as soon as he had enough of the 9-5 routine.

I had fly-fished 10 or so times before this trip and even had tried out the float tube a couple times.

The fork was going to be a bit different. Big water, big fish.

I had heard my dad and his buddies talk of the size of fish before and had seen plenty of photos and eaten my share of the native brook trout there, but hadn't experienced it first hand.

Wearing my waders & flippers, with my dad giving me the last instructions, I carefully got into the float tube, kicked with all my might and followed him to deeper waters.

We cast and recast for two hours, my dad being able to catch 6 or 7 big fish. I had a nursing baby back at our cabin (Hannah) and knew my time fishing was almost over.

With about 30 minutes left, I decided to relax and just take in the scenery and the time with my dad.

It was pure heaven. The water glopping against the rubber on the tube. The sky a gray-blue, pine trees outlining the huge area of water. The fresh-air mingled with fish stink. My feet as free as ever, flying under the surface.

A fish hit my fly just as we were traveling towards shore and I reeled in a beauty.

20 inches of pure Cutthroat trout.

My dad smiling ear to ear as he cleaned it for me and took a photo.

One of my most priceless memories!