First casts

This little icy creek is located across the street from my Grandparents home in Spruce Pine, NC. My Grandfather passed away this week after a long illness. He was a great man and many of my memories of him include fishing, including the time he took us to the pay per pound trout pond and me and my cousin cost him at least a c-note in about an hour of fishing. I am sure he winced with every splashing fish, but to his credit we only saw him smiling from ear to ear.

The little creek is the first place I ever wielded a fly rod when I was a kid. My Great Grandfather handed me a fly rod with a stonefly nymph on the end of it and told me to get out of the house and go fish. I promptly lost the fly to the trees and, because I didn't want to tell him about losing it, pretended to fish the rest of the afternoon.

I couldn't help taking a peek at it while waiting on some family to arrive and noted a couple of troutlike shadows lurking in a promising hole. No doubt I will be back.