Hudson Chronicles
A Regular guy and his son on Life, Love and Fishing: Vol 4
He’s Two;
This morning I was demonstrating for Hudson how big boys pee. In our bathroom there is a magazine rack which is constant thing of amazement for Hudson. He loves to pick up a magazine and tell me what he sees. Today he was asking me in his truly adorable two year old voice, ‘What’s dat, dad… what’s dat?’ I looked down and he was pointing at a picture of a King Salmon caught in Alaska. I responded, “Fish Hudson that is a King Salmon, a Fishy!” Immediately Hudson responded, “No dad, I know Fishy…..What’s DAT!”. Obviously he was running out of patience with me and he dropped the magazine and proceeded to go through all the magazines in the rack at Mach- Two year old. Fishing Rags where flying over his little shoulders as he double fisted his way tossing every magazine in the rack, then suddenly he stopped. I looked down and he had a copy of Fly Tyer in his hand, on the cover was a Salmon Pattern the same exact pattern that was in the picture of the King’s mouth.
With Renewed vigor he held up the magazine in his left hand and pressed his little pointer into the picture repeatedly, “That ….Dad What’s That?”
I picked him up squeezed him for every once I’m worth as I took him to the vice. Carrying the magazine I told him it was Fishy- Food and that we could make some if he wanted. He honestly squealed and without missing a beat picked up a half a Pheasant Tail feather and pressed it against the hook laying bare in the vice. I tied it in. We repeated this pattern a few times, letting Hudson pick the materials and lay them up against the hook shank and I would tie them in. We came up with the nothing really resembling anything other than a maybe a generic Nymph that has too big a Thorax (Hudson really liked the Peacock Fibers!). For those of you who don’t know there is a One Fly Contest in Jackson’s Hole every year, I’ve never entered. I’ve always wanted to and was thinking about seriously doing it this year. I’ve decided to wait until Hudson reaches an age where he can fully understand what it’s all about. I’m sure that time will come sooner than I would like, however when it does, I already have my fly.
Tying in Wire
Whip Finish
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Hudson Chronicles
A Regular guy and his son on Life, Love and Fishing: Vol 2
Small toes and a button nose, grins and chins; My son Hudson at six months had many of the first and the later. At version .5 he could crawl, sit up and spit up – but not much else. From the beginning my wife and I had agreed I couldn’t take him until he was half past zero. Not sure why we choose that specific mile marker, or why I waited, but none the less I held out for the magic day. July 21st, 2006 will be a day for ever burned into memory, that Saturday was every father’s dream realized, tangible and true. Having planned, dreamed and schemed about this day since his first fuzzy sonogram I grew giddy with every hour passing as the final week shut it's door and opened another. The day came, and that night I couldn’t sleep. Up with the slightest sign of light peeking through the slats in our bedroom blinds I played the role of the household rooster deliberately closing doors loudly and leaving lights on. With the conviction of an altar boy I was determined to take big bites and savor every moment.
From left to right, driver- sleeping wife- and car seat 17 lbs 6 ounces full give or take a dirty diaper we climbed miles out of phoenix as the sun wrapped it’s arms around the horizon. Squinting past the visor I drew deep breaths conscious to taste every moment for all that I had built it to be and all it truly was. Within two and half hours form the valley of the sun we had closed in rapidly on our destination and for the life of me, I can’t remember a minute of it. Shortly there after we veered right down the gravel turn off marking the end of our car ride and the start of our fishing trip. Three miles of trail lay between us and the first cast of my son’s life, simplicity never seemed so clear. Mom helped put H-man in the child carrier -backpack and we headed off down the trail. When hiking with H on my back I have a narcissistic tendency to let the symbolism manifest and ponder on the greater questions of my responsibilities of being dad.
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More to follow…..
Hudson Chronicles
A Regular guy and his son on Life, Love and Fishing: Vol 3
Hudson and company spent the weekend pushing up boulders and chasing rainbows in the sun. We pointed mom’s Rover North and then East playing hopscotch through the towering Douglas Furs that post sentry outside of Flagstaff. Leaving I40 and connecting with 89 making our last leg too Marble Canyon, a nothing little town nestled in the foothills along side the North rim of the Grand Canyon. Before venturing out Hudson and Mom take a minute to pose for a shot along side the banks of the Colorado. Armed with his five-weight, our version 1.5 son started fishing at the Walk In section of Lees Ferry Located just below Persia Creek. Dad tied some special ‘little guy friendly’ flies for Hudson to try out (midges with hooks cut off). At barely 29 inches from the earth a nine foot rod is a lot to handle and appropriately so Hudson uses his role cast when not fishing with his own Fly-O.
Although he didn’t land any fish this time I can see him progress each trip we make. A few months ago he was roll casting just to go through the motions now he will watch the line as it goes out onto the water and he celebrates each cast
with all the happiness of a child his age can show. We started practicing a few weeks ago with a paper plate in the living room as our target. I would set the plate down and cast his fly o for him landing the line on the plate. When I hit the target we would clap, sing and dance. Once he got what dad did I then handed him the rod, with in minutes he was laying perfect casts down on the plate and celebrating with dad. Truly amazing how children soak new things up just like a sponge.
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We spent a little while longer casting and “Phisshhing” and then we took a stroll down the beach admiring the beautiful backdrop this national monument provided.
Hudson’s favorite word maybe ‘water,’ or at least a close second to “KYLEY” his daycare crush. A little cutie just a few weeks younger then Hudson has become the object of his affections. When ever you hand him a phone he will pretend to call her and then precedes to blow the phone kisses professing his love the only way a pre-toddler knows how.
Hudson and his mommy were walking hand in hand stopping only to point and the ‘WAD-TER …WAD-TER’. Standing next to that much power literally carving its’ way through the Canyon is humbling. Every time I’m here I find it hard not to feel alien and out of place walking along side and in such a truly spectacular piece of nature. The Native Americans say the Canyon is a holly place and once at the bottom looking up it’s hard not to agree. To say it’s a spiritual experience maybe a cumbersome use of the English language. However as close as I can come with out being boring or repetitive of far greater writers then myself is this;At the bottom of the canyon looking up you’re in awe as much as from the top looking down, instead of realizing how big you are, it’s how small.
On this particular day I find thoughts of being a good father creeping their way into my head. Not so much doubts that I may or may not be doing a good job or, but more a deep lingering forming in the pit of my stomach. A lingering that is saying once you have a child, life is lived in fast forward from here on out. I took a deep breath and scanned out across the Colorado mentally skipping from boulder to boulder until my eyes and the water met the far canyon wall. Pulling out my camera I opened up the lens and balanced, back against a boulder. Consciously I wanted to freeze the moment in time knowing that every minute going forward our little guy was getting further and further away from his first.
Strapping Hudson to my back mother and I decided it was time to for the big kids to fish. With in twenty minutes he was snoring and Tara was getting back into her old casting rhythm. I took about a half an hour to go over the indicator fishing mantra with her and refresh her memory. Cast, strip in slack, mend, shake-out line. It had been a while for her since she’d been on the water, but before you could say Wendy Gunn she was working it like a pro.
Like most tail waters you will find that a mix of midges, San Juan Worms and Scud patterns will produce fish year around. The pattern of this Mid September day was an Orange S.J. Worm with a Zebra Emerger trailing 18 inches behind. Tara worked over a pod of fish rising to emerging midges as I walked up stream with the nap taker in tow. Every twenty minutes or so the sun decided to peak out from behind the clouds and I could catch a glimpse of fish feeding close to the bottom. Their Rainbow Colored sides stuck out poetically against the tan and emerald colored bottom. My son was on my back, I was doing what I loved with the two people whom I held closest to me, life was good. Instead of the problems I felt ten minutes earlier having to climb their way 1000 feet out of the canyon they floated. Amazing how time can change perspective, even just ten minutes. My bliss moment was erupted with disappearance of my indicator. A day full of gifts I thought as I smiled inwardly consciously enjoying this little slice of time. Dawning my better half with the camera I put Hudson down on the beach still in his backpack so he I could bring the little rainbow up to him, close and personal.
We closed out the fishing with a couple more brilliantly colored 18s and in Hudson’s own words said ‘Bye-Bye’ to the bottom of the Canyon. Next stop was the Boulder Fields for some creative positioning of our son SUPER HUDSON!! Every parent likes to brag about their kid, but who knew our Peanut could hold up boulders? Our goal was just to get him out of the a backpack carrier and car seat for a little bit before we took him to see the Wapaktui Observatory. An excited and fully climbing capable 20 month year old is not what you want on an open covered bridge looking 1500 feet straight down into the Colorado River. So as planned we ran and played a bit after Super-H did some heavy lifting. The rock formations right before you get to Marble Canyon and immediately after you cross the Colorado River appear completely foreign and look more suited for a Sigorny Weever set then a national park. This is a must stop and see for all those visiting the Ferry. If you’re and headed anywhere more then an hour from here the Boulder Fields are a great excess energy drain for kids. There are lots of peculiar looking shapes and formations to inspect and admire while your little ones run around and in our case eat the red dirt.
Being a dad is hard to describe in words, for me there are some old country songs that come close. Responsible for making decisions that shape a littler person’s life permanently is an intimidating notion at best. Innate instincts are constantly second guessed and fears of not teaching the right the life lessons are ever present. I choose to use the vessel of fishing. Since Hudson’s first trip to a mountain stream at six months and until he stops wanting to go with me I choose to teach through living actively. Being out in the elements in pursuit of fish with a long rod is an everlasting game continually evolving and changing. My goal is simple; I want to provide my son with the exposure to something beautiful and life lasting. Allow him while in my care to see the layers unfold and put the pieces together for himself. Nothing for me so far in this life has come closer to being in God’s Presence then knee deep in current casting to rising fish. I’ve never learned more in any job in the office environment on strategy, analysis, persistence and patience than I’ve learned in one day on a trout stream. My slice on life for kids is keep them occupied and keep them out of trouble. Build a life lasting relationship from the start with your child founded on spending time with them is the basis. My hopes are to spend time on the water with my son from version .5 until Dad’s software is retired. Now granted I’m as new at this as he is to air, however like every first time parent I’m winging it. When version 16.5 roles around I’ll let you know how it’s coming along.
Roping this digression or muse, I’ll let you, as the reader, choose which, we make our way out onto the bridge connecting both sides of the Canyon. Along the same thread as this whole story I stand atop of this bridge looking down the river we just fished and breathed deeply. Hudson and Mom waiting back in the car I whisper my thoughts aloud into the wind one sentence at a time.
Help me teach my son the lessons you’ve shared with me.
Help me teach my son the lessons I still need to learn.
Help me teach him how to be a better man then me.
As the winds eat up my whispered prayers I watch Tara and Hudson looking tentatively from the parking lot side of the bridge out at me. Knowing that my wife doesn’t like the heights I took one last shot from the bridge and made my way back across to my family waiting from the other side.
We pack up and got ready to head back home, Hudson loaded up and mom is ready to go back to the Valley of the sun. We pull the mom-mobile out of the parking lot and pause for traffic I push my lens out the window.
Limited to spending time as we can afford, I offer up one last thought to the winds whispering through the canyon as my shutter clicks closed. How can we afford not too.…
