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My Dad and Uncle Dick were visiting Vail from Minnesota and I convinced them to drive to Steamboat for a day of fly-fishing. After debating several different guide services and waters, I selected Steamboat Fly Fisher and an area of the Yampa River west of town near Milner called the Lower Cam. It was a “blue-bird” day and we couldn’t have had better weather.

My Dad is a beginner fly-fisherman, myself intermediate, and Uncle Dick an expert. We arrived at the shop at 9 am and headed 20 minutes west of town toward Milner. At some point, I realized that the experience of going fishing with your buddies or family is so much more than just the fishing. The camaraderie of having coffee before the trip, talking shop and telling tales, and comparing stories and results afterwards is really what it’s all about.

My Uncle Dick certainly understands the essence of this fishing experience. My Dad and he arrived early to my house to say hello to the “wife” to be, and top off their coffee mugs to ensure a nice caffeine buzz when we got on the water. Dick grew up fly-fishing in Northern Wisconsin and has been wetting a line for well over 50 years. It’s awesome to see a 60-something-year-old man have the excitement and anticipation that embodies a 5-year-old on Christmas morning.

So, we got to the river and it was time to get our waders on and rig the rods. This is where it started to get interesting. The guide brought six weight poles for all of us and assured us that this stretch of water was known for having sizeable trout; we’d need this weight pole if we wanted to land a big fish. Uncle Dick brought his trusty four weight from home and insisted on sticking with this. It was quite a moment to see the guide’s reluctance, but also you could see in his eyes that “the customer was always right.” With that, we headed out onto the water.

As the guide squared my Dad and I away with nymphs, my Uncle walked down river and insisted on a dry. He told the guide that he would rather dry fly-fish for four hours and not catch anything, than to use nymphs. So, that is how things went. My Dad and I caught a dozen beautiful rainbow in a few hours, and my Uncle stayed down river from us throwing out dries with his four weight.

As we moved up river and got closer to our finishing point, Uncle Dick was running out of time and river. At this point, he stubbornly put on a hopper and methodically tossed it out, determined that it would entice a brown. Then, with no warning or prior activity, a lunker walloped my Uncle’s hopper. Anticipating this moment for over three hours, he was fully prepared. He tightened his line and set the hook in a split second, while my dad and I and our guide gathered on the shore to watch him try to land the fish.

Now remember, my Uncle opted for his trusty old four-weight rod against the guide’s recommendation and we all knew that he now had his hands full. But he calmly kept his line taught and proceeded to tire the large fish out. After about 10 minutes it was clear who was going to win this battle. The guide conceded and gladly netted the beautiful brown trout. We all knew what we had just witnessed and nobody needed to say anything. We just stood and admired the 24-incher caught by sheer stubbornness – and a little age and experience.

Uncle Dick with the Brown Trout

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