Home Forums Fishing Flyfishing The making of a tradition

The thought manifests as the word,
The word manifests as the deed,
The deed develops into habit,
And the habit hardens into character.
So watch the thought and its way with care,
And let it spring from love
Born out of concern for all beings.

Can you tell me at what point a tradition is born? How many years must be invested for what was once a pleasant and repeated event to cement for itself a place in the heart? How often must an act, or actions, be patiently recreated until those actions transcend from mere ritual into the sacred?

To my way of thought, there is no number, no line that delineates the birth of tradition. What I do know is when I find myself longing for the company of old friends on familiar water with a sense of joyful anticipation normally reserved for family at Thanksgiving or perhaps the singing of an old and familiar hymn after not hearing it in many years, what used to be "a fishing trip" has become a cherished tradition to me.

The Tiers and Liars is a group of local men that has at times numbered as many as seven but normal four or five. For many years, we met one evening a week to tie flies, discuss local personalities and politics, share a few jokes and take turns bringing the dessert. I am, at 51, the junior member by at least two decades. I've taken my fair share of ribbing as "the kid," and have in turn busted the chops of the old boys at every given opportunity. Nearly twenty years ago when it was clear that I wasn't going away any time soon, the senior member of our group said "Well, you're life has taken a turn downhill." When I asked what he meant, Bill deadpanned: "Five more funerals to attend."

Twenty years later, and thankfully that hasn't been the case yet, although some things have changed. Paul's mom passed away and he had no reason to stick around for the Montana winters. He and his wife bought a winter home in New Mexico, but it seems that winters are getting longer and longer each year as last year he didn't come back until July. Donn and his wife sold the house and moved to be closer to the grand kids, but then her cancer--long in remission--came back and took her swiftly this past winter. Al, the member who initially reached out to me with the invitation to join, has been snow-birding for years, and Jim's hands don't allow him to tie flies anymore--something that we regret nearly as much as he does. Tom would normally join us, but he's had both knees replaced with artificial joints this winter, so even though he's still at fighting weight and yearning for the trip, he's listening to his better judgement and sitting it out this year.

Those of us who remain still look forward to our annual reunion on a well-known Montana stream that, thankfully, isn't nearly as busy in early April as it is during the summer months. Truth be told, I can't bear the thought of the traffic it receives during the peak fishing season. We prefer to visit when the weather is still cold, the water colder, and the hatches less attractive to both the trout and those who prefer dry flies.



The old cabin is delightfully off the grid. It's miles of gravel roads and teeth-jarring potholes from either direction to get there. Due to a mild winter and even milder spring, we were able to drive upstream this year rather than looping another fifty paved miles in order to circumnavigate the otherwise snow-choked Forest Service road. There is no electricity, telephone, cell-phone coverage, running water, or indoor plumbing other than a gray-water drain from the kitchen sink. The heat is wood and the lights, gas.

It's perfect.











[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1310_zpsmcontjkk.jpg[/img]

The cabin functions on an honor system. There is no housekeeper who visits between renting guests. The condition you leave it in is the condition the next party receives. While there is a written list of expectations, we don't read it anymore. We've become familiar with what is expected of us, and these men possess the character traits on integrity, hard work, cheerfulness, and generosity of spirit. We take turns cooking, and the others are quick to attend to clean up and dishes. The wood box is never empty. We have come to anticipate the actions of the others, and I can think of few others who possess the wisdom, woodcraft, and genuine love for the natural world that these men so casually exhibit.

They've forgotten more about these things than most will ever know.

It's still freezing at night, so there's no rush to get on the water early. Stoking the fire is first, followed by strong black coffee. Breakfast comes later, and is a leisurely affair.

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1361_zpssii7ggbh.jpg[/img]

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1396_zpssp1f8o5u.jpg[/img]

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1398_zps1jzl2uja.jpg[/img]

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1402_zpsbqt633us.jpg[/img]

Breakfast served and the dishes washed, it's time to gear up. While we don't always fish exactly the same water every year, there are a few favorite runs. The discussion turns to "Where shall we fish first?" and I'm delighted when the decision to start upriver is made with minimal input from me. There's a spot that I've been looking forward to fishing for a couple of years. Last year it was still frozen, but this year's mild weather means that it will likely be open and fishable.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1415%202_zpscikyvumk.jpg[/img]

I have company--but not for long.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1330%202_zpshctqiscr.jpg[/img]

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1346_zpstd9tr9rh.jpg[/img]

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1444%202_zps8ijfbs96.jpg[/img]

These guys aren't paying any attention to me, so they stick around for a long while.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1442_zpsbaaghdwk.jpg[/img]

What? You say you can't see them? They're right there on the hillside.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v...0-43dd-ac6a-6015b4285aef_zps5furvjin.jpg[/img]

Right.

There.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1423%202_zpsljz7llte.jpg[/img]

Fishing is initially slow. I got blanked. Bill landed a lone small whitefish, but Ed caught and released six or eight trout, all from one run. We laugh that he's leading in all three categories--first, most, and largest. It's a joke, as none of us is terribly concerned about any of these things. It's been a full day, and as is often the case, we fished further into the evening than originally planned. The days are getting noticeably longer, and for all of us, it's the first fishing we've done since last fall. But now, there's pulled pork sandwiches and a side of beans waiting to be heated, and the idea of a hot meal and a few hours of conversation seated around a warm wood stove is beckoning. We'll stay up late, get up early, and repeat the process for two more days.

After all, it's tradition.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1387%202_zpswoov9df3.jpg[/img] [/report]

Wonderful write up and pics
I am trying to place that river as I am sure I have fished it in the past.

Excellent.. Thanks for sharing.. You are lucky to have such fine friends..

The Campfire has a limit of the number of pictures you can post in a single post so you just take your second set and reply to the thread. Photos and a great tale like this certainly deserves to be seen! I'm deeply envious.

Allen





Breakfast served and the dishes washed, it's time to gear up. While we don't always fish exactly the same water every year, there are a few favorite runs. The discussion turns to "Where shall we fish first?" and I'm delighted when the decision to start upriver is made with minimal input from me. There's a spot that I've been looking forward to fishing for a couple of years. Last year it was still frozen, but this year's mild weather means that it will likely be open and fishable.



I have company--but not for long.







These guys aren't paying any attention to me, so they stick around for a long while.



What? You say you can't see them? They're right there on the hillside.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/K...zps5furvjin.jpg[/img]

Right.

There.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1423%202_zpsljz7llte.jpg[/img]

Fishing is initially slow. I got blanked. Bill landed a lone small whitefish, but Ed caught and released six or eight trout, all from one run. We laugh that he's leading in all three categories--first, most, and largest. It's a joke, as none of us is terribly concerned about any of these things. It's been a full day, and as is often the case, we fished further into the evening than originally planned. The days are getting noticeably longer, and for all of us, it's the first fishing we've done since last fall. But now, there's pulled pork sandwiches and a side of beans waiting to be heated, and the idea of a hot meal and a few hours of conversation seated around a warm wood stove is beckoning. We'll stay up late, get up early, and repeat the process for two more days.

After all, it's tradition.

[img:center]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/Kelly_Palmer/DSCN1387%202_zpswoov9df3.jpg[/img] [/report]

Thanks for both the help and the kind words Allen.

KP

Enjoyed reading the story. I would entertain the idea of sending it to magazines such as F&S. You likely would have to lengthen to meet their requirements.