This week I got a note from Mark Greer, asking me to help pay tribute to his late son Anthony, who was an avid fly fisherman and a guide on the Green River in Utah. He included an essay written by Anthony, some photos of Anthony, and an article by Tom Wharton of the Salt Lake Tribune.
“Anthony had hoped to see one of his essays published. “The River” speaks to those of us who have spent time fishing, floating or sitting next to running water,” wrote Wharton.
Mark asked that I post The River on Father’s Day. I am delighted to do so. My own father is no longer alive but I know he would have liked this essay. As Anthony would have said, “Enjoy.”
Where does one venture when the responsibilities of life weigh heavy upon the mind? The answer, of course, is very simple. We go to where no others bother to look. The places we visit, time after time after time. The River.
She’s always there. Always willing to share her bounty to the dedicated. The few. The ones who got the ‘bug’ early, and have never ceased to stop the quest for knowledge. The River, although a temptress at times, never ceases to amaze, and even if she takes your breath away … we always find ourselves coming back for more.
This, my friends, is not passion, hobby or sport. It cannot as easily be summed in those words. In a few enlightened anglers’ minds lies an addiction so deep, I dare say, that even after a lifetime of angling they would begin to feel ‘satisfied’.
Or maybe these are just the rants of one lone fish bum?