How a father’s fly fishing lessons have led to years of enjoyment

I was 12 when my family moved into the lodge on the western shore of Umsaskis Lake. The lodge set up on a high bank overlooking the lake. My siblings and I would spend the next five summers exploring the outdoors there. As long as Mama had a general idea of where we were, we were allowed to be free-range kids. We did a fair amount of canoeing, berry-picking and hiking, but most of my free time in the out of doors was spent swimming and fishing off the dock in front of the lodge. We could swim or we could fish, but never at the same time. I now realize that Mama didn’t want to be digging fish hooks out of my younger brothers.

In the first couple of summers, I would worm-dunk with a spinning rod. We caught buckets of chubs and snagged an occasional brookie. There would be lots of cheering when we caught a trout. We really didn’t care what we caught. We just loved to fish.

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