Remember when we went to Willow Lake last year? Even though the camping didn't exactly go as planned, that trip is one of my most treasured memories from last summer. So we have decided to make a tradition out of a weekend at Willow Lake every summer, and this past weekend was the date set for us to go. We invited my brothers this time, so on Friday the five of us packed up the truck and headed south. We didn't arrive until late, so most of the festivities took place the next day. Baby G started out sleeping in his pack & play, but he refuses to sleep with blankets on and the double layer of pajamas just wasn't cutting it, so he ended up in the sleeping bags with us.
He slept good, we didn't. Little cutie.
My husband is a fly-fisherman to the core. Despite getting very little sleep, he rolled out of the tent at the crack of dawn to get to the fish feeding early in the morning. By the time Baby G and I got up, the boys had been out on the lake fishing for a couple of hours. Baby G was not pleased that he was missing out on the fishing, so we ran down to the lake as quickly as possible (only after he found the perfect walking stick, though). No, there wasn't even time to change out of pajamas.
This picture of him resting on his walking stick cracks me up. Such a little man.
As soon as Baby G spotted his daddy and his daddy spotted him, they started running toward each other. The following six pictures show the sequence of events that followed:
After Baby G had "fished" for awhile, we moved to the other side of the lake and actually fished from the dam (because it was a safe, flat place for all of us to hang out). J got a fish on and Baby G helped reel it in.
He was pretty happy about landing a pretty tiger trout.
So happy that he wanted to kiss it before we let it go.
My brothers took Baby G back to our campsite for breakfast and J and I stayed behind to fish for a few minutes. We both literally casted no more than 10 times and both caught fish. It was funny because there were people nearby that had been fishing with spinners for a couple of hours that were not catching a darn thing. J caught this rainbow:
And I hooked this tiger. J instructed me to bring it to the surface when I was reeling it in so that the other fisherman (the ones not catching anything) would be jealous and impressed. This is when I gave him a short talking to about humility.
When we weren't fishing we were:
cooking (J made his delectable version of bacon, egg, & cheese Mcmuffins),
golfing (please note the "hole" fully equipped with the "flag" for them to golf into),
And this picture right here, this is why my husband is such an incredible fly-fisherman. It is also why his career path of biologist fits him so perfectly:Wait, your husbands don't fashion aquatic insect catching devices out of two wooden dowels and a window screen? They don't insist on stopping at two random rivers on the way home to run down to the water, stir up some bugs, and collect them in little glass tubes? Oh. Mine does. And then he comes home, organizes and labels them, and uses them as patterns when tying his own flies for fishing so that his flies are as authentic to the actual insects the fish are eating as possible. And that, my friends, is why we catch fish wherever we go. You should come fishing with us sometime. I promise that even if you think fishing is boring and dumb you would enjoy fly-fishing with my husband. Really. And I am serious about the offer. He will take anyone that wants to go. And it will probably be the highlight of his week :).