"Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it."

Two weeks ago I went fishing for the second time in my life. Fishing is something I have always been positive I would love. Surrounded by nature, quiet, time to think, the anticipation of a catch, the excitement of catching...what's not to love?!

The first time I went fishing was when I was about 12 years old and a friend of mine and I tied some fishing line to the end of yard sticks, attached white bread to the end of our hooks, and sunk them into the man made landscape of our housing development. It sounds awry but we actually caught an entire bucketful of rather ugly fish. The fish died before we were able to get them back into the lake after showing our prize to our mothers.

This fishing excursion was not as fruitful but just as memorable. My friend Spencer invited me to go fishing on a Monday night FHE had been cancelled. We drove to the trailhead of Bells Canyon in Draper, UT around 6:30 in the evening and began a 15-20 minute hike up to the Bells Canyon Resevoir. We began the hike surrounded by private property(ostentatious houses)but quickly left the valley and highway behind as we crossed a bridge that straddles a creek and began a steady climb. We talked the whole way of family, school, nature, books, and...basically any aspiration, supposition, or theory that came to mind.

When we first arrived at the resevoir it was dotted with hikers and fishermen of all shapes, sizes, and relations. We assembled the gear and prepared to fish. Spencer made it look so easy but my casting was far less graceful and e x t e n s i v e. After a few plunks in the water and a knot or two in my line later we decided to try fly fishing on the opposite side of the resevoir. I have always wanted to learn how to fly fish and this opportunity was what I looked forward to the most. Fly fishing immediately makes a fish alive (figuratively and literally). As we cast our flies into the water we immediately began to see fish JuMpINg out of the water, plopping in and out of their world trying to get a mouthful of fly. The contrast, for me, between fly fishing and typical fishing was stark. You are constantly whipping your line in and out of the water; the fish is no longer something that swims about aimlessly all day but becomes a living thinking thing. You begin to try to tantalize and lure the fish in with a light cast but you begin to realize that they are playing as well. It's fascinating! Spencer was a patient and effective teacher. We were soon the only humans left at the resevoir and we started hiking back to the car near the end of sunset. We ate dinner at a mexican restaurant (yummy) and then headed to my aparment where I realized it was 11:00 p.m.! Time flies when you're having fun! It really was a great experience: great conversation, good company, something new, surrounded by nature, and filled with authentic food. I will definitely go again! The entire time my mind kept trailing back to one of my favorite books A River Runs Through It (hence the title of this post). Norman Maclean is genius in how he is able to describe his environment, his thoughts, and the fish. Perhaps it's not for everyone but to me the description of nature is devastatingly poetic.

Yesterday evening Spencer and I returned to Bells Canyon but this time we only stopped at the resevoir to observe two moose wading in the water. When we were fishing I told Spencer how much I wanted to see a moose and yesterday was my lucky day! They were massive (and that was from the opposite side of the resevoir)!

We continued hiking around the resevoir and up the canyon (and when I say up I mean up). We hiked to a waterfall where we enjoyed apple sauce and marveled at the beauty of the earth and a few mountain goats scaling the cliffs to the north (and laughed at some high schoolers who generously shared part of one of the watermelons they had carried with them....then watched as they rolled the other melon off the cliff). Our hike down seemed more like a slide as we glassaded over patches of snow. It was 10:00 p.m. by the time we made it back to the car. I can't get enough of being outside. I always bring my camera along--although a picture never seems to do justice to the real magnificence...but it's all I have to offer.

"...the stories of life are often more like rivers than books."

-Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It