Farewell to an old fishing friend

For the past couple weeks I have been dealing with the death of an old friend, Greg Cleverly. The hard thing about his death is that my relationship with him dates back to when I was a kid in college. So many good and bad waters have flowed over our bridge since then. The reason I say “dealing with” is that his death is the result of him taking his own life. It’s just hard to say suicide , because you feel like if you say those words aloud, or worse yet if you print them, that your are spitting in the face of all that love and know him, and that you are somehow being disrespectful. I do not want to show any disrespect for him or his family. I love them so much, and I do not want do not want to hurt them in any way. But I was so deeply affected by him that I am struggling with what happened to him, and that he would end his own life. I always say that some people “get into your blood stream” and those that do, remain there forever. He is in my bloodstream.

For over two years we have not spoken; I have shut him out of my life. We were involved in business, and things just went bad. Throughout the past couple years, we have had very little contact. He found out that my dad had cancer, and he reached out to me. We came close to reconnecting, but I still had pain in my heart, and I did not feel that it was time to let him back in my life. Over a year passed, and in that time, I think he went into a dark place. I had no idea how much light was shut out of his life.

His funeral was hard for me. I was asked to speak and it was tough. It was not so much difficult to speak, or to be there, but it was hard inside to sort out my feelings. I wish that it would have turned out different for him. I wish we could have bumped into each other some place, at a store or at some event and all the pain and problems from the past would have melted away and we could go fishing again together again as friends.

My mom has always said that you are lucky if you have one true friend in this world. I must be one lucky son of a bitch then. I have had the good fortune to have many friends that I would count as in that category. I have a handful of old friends that I would go to the end of the world for, no matter what the cost, and some new friends as well. Greg was one of those friends. I wish so much in my heart that the trouble between us could have been resolved. I guess I can blame him for leaving, and I can blame myself for taking so long to get over things. Or perhaps I can find a way to make it right with those that are still living. I miss my friend. Greg, I hope you are waste deep in a new river.

He was the best damn fisherman I have ever wet a line with! 

Holy is as Holy does

 

Spring break and the ladies of my clan decide to head down to sunny St. Geezie. As much fun as being stuffed into a hotel with a bunch of teenaged girls and one lovely 40 something year old mother sounds, I opt to stay home. Also I really am buried with a lot of work. A day or two before they leave, the Beez, decides to stay home with me, and go camp/fish for one night. Our destination: Holy Water and Dessert Nirvana.

Colby is planning on meeting us there at least one of the days. We pull up to the spot we normally park, and his car is there along with about 6 other vehicles. It just sucks when every Yahoo in the state hears about one of your special places. You can go on line and watch video of people talking about the experience here, and they pretty much walk you right to the water. I suspect the net has done that with every river across the country. I have probably added to the problem. People can look at my pics on my blog and figure out every river based upon the information.

We meet up at a hole we refer to as “The Greek Whore,” Colby actually named it that; I think in retaliation to all the New Testament names. I suspect his goal was to add a little flavor to the names. Like any good whore, she put out; but not until she first taunted with us with the wind. Once you have figured out one or two of these fish, you know you are in store for a great day of hooking up.

The brought the dogs, little Blain was just beside himself with curiosity when he would see a fish come it to the shore. Check out the pic of him deciding whether he’s going to run or attach the brown on the end of the line.

We get back to Nirvana with just enough light to find some fire wood, and get our Dutch oven dinner ready.  Dessert Nirvana is some property I have in the area. It’s currently just land, but the hope is that one day I will have some money to put a little cabin there. But for now, just sitting by the camp fire, poking at the stew in the Dutch is fantastic. Walking away from the fire is amazing. The moon is full, the air clean and brisk, and the feeling of just not being in the city renews me. I just don’t get to do this enough. I need to spend more time sitting at a camp fire watching the flames.

In the morning we decide to drive to Rock Creek. She has to be back home by about 5:00 to go to class, so I use the few precious hours to throw a Fat Albert to the hungry little fish. As I start out walking up river, I don’t see any fish feeding off the top, so I add a dropper. I catch a bunch of little ones, off a Prince Nymph. Like a switch being turned on the top of the water is just boiling. I don’t even think I will have to match the hatch, but just stick with Albert. Sure enough they are as happy to eat him as they are the midge coming off.

I make us some brats with fresh sauerkraut. There is just something right about a brat in the mountains. But then again it seems like anything you BBQ in the hills tastes delicious. I don’t want to drive back home, instead I want to stay for about a week, fish, Dutch oven cook ,and watch a fire for days on end. Actually I want to stay for as long as I want, to wallow in it until I say “enough, no more fish, food and fun.” We got home in time for her to go to class, and I took a shower and went back to work.