One of the nicer things about living in Bradford is its proximity to New York State.
You can fish both states the same day and double your enjoyment. So, after a Pennsylvania limit, I felt the urge to cross the line and chase a few trout in New York.
It was a beautiful spring day, the sun shining brightly, a few white clouds drifted high in a brilliant blue sky. It was good just to be alive, and fortune smiled upon me with a second limit.
The following morning, I fried up some trout for breakfast and then visited my mom in the nursing home. She loves trout and quickly devoured her snack.
She always smiles when I show her pictures of my catch. Even though she’s 96, her mind is still sharp along with her memory.
Of course, she’s been witness to my passion for fishing from my earliest days. That smile of hers is difficult to describe.
First, there’s happiness and some pride that I, her son, have been successful. But part of her smile is also touched with a remaining amusement and a mother’s appreciation of her boy’s obsession.
How he came by it, how strong it was and is, perhaps an inability to understand that compelling focus from such a very early age. It was almost a family joke, her son and his single-minded devotion to the sport. But, with a mother’s love, she accepted the fact that rod and reel were a defining part of her boy’s character.
After lunch, I signed mom out and wheeled her down to the car. Mom and dad spent countless hours driving together when he was still alive.
Exploring back roads, flea markets, garage sales, antique shops, museums or a visit to a nearby park or wild area to build a fire and toast up lunch or dinner. So, mom and I take rides together.
She dearly loves to do so and it’s even better if we see some game: deer, turkeys, hawks, it doesn’t matter, any of God’s creatures are delightful and interesting. If nothing is moving, we still have the road and each other. Sometimes, a snack or even an ice cream cone enter the picture, though mom only weighs 85 pounds and eats like a bird.
Today was another beautiful day, sunshine and blue sky brightened our mood though the wind had an edge to it. This afternoon, we drove back roads for some time and never saw a living creature of size.
Even the birds seemed to be missing. Perhaps all life was just lying back and soaking in the sun, reveling in the absence of snow and bitter temperatures.
The road dipped and came to a bridge. The stream looked great, sunlight reflecting off the rushing waters and, on a sudden impulse, I pulled over.
Mom glanced at me puzzled for a moment, then smiled. She understood and rolled down the windows and settled back to watch and admire the happy, sun-sparkled world around her.
I grabbed my rod, shrugged into the overloaded fishing vest and walked down to the stream. Keeping out of sight, I cast a salmon egg.
The egg bumped down the current and suddenly a trout swirled at it, but didn’t take. Not reacting, I let the egg continue its drift until, at the very end of the hole, something grabbed it.
Lifting the rod tip set the hook. Immediately, a golden flash followed by a heavy weight. Wow, this was a nice trout.
The UL bent and strained, the heavy fish pulling drag and turning its side into the fast-moving current refused to give an inch. I waved to Mom who, seeing the deep bend in my pole, laughed and raised her fists shaking them in support.
Seemingly tireless, the big brown put on an epic, stubborn battle, coming to the net several times, but then thrashed violently, turned and dashed back out. Finally, I slipped him into the meshes with a sigh of relief and quickly struggled up the bank to my mother, who had witnessed the whole show.
We laughed and grinned at the size of the brown and my good fortune. I believe she was happier than me.
Bagging the trout and returning to the creek, I moved upstream to the next hole. An accurate cast, the salmon egg disappeared under a large rock, a strike.
Again, I felt the weight and power of a larger trout, and another battle began. At last, the big trout tired and came to the net. Two casts, two dandy trout.
The very next cast, my bail broke. Mom’s eyes really popped when I returned with the second brown; neither of us could believe my good fortune.
I hugged Mom and she hugged me back with enthusiasm. Both of us felt strongly this was a very special moment that seemed somehow ordained by a higher, loving power.
In a sense, the breaking of my reel sealed those special moments. Two large trout were enough, the experience exceptional and the gift eternally memorable.
And so, we drove home, holding hands, occasionally looking at one another and spontaneously laughing. The fishing crazy son and his ever-understanding mother now in the autumn of her life.
My heart swelled within me, choking tears ran down my cheeks, oh that this moment might last forever.
