As a boy growing up, I was fortunate enough to spend a great deal of time in the High Sierra mountains. When I was about five years old, I learned to fish in Lone Pine Creek under the watchful eye of my grandfather. We left camp one afternoon and walked about 50 feet to a small pool next to our campsite. My memory of this event has faded, but my recollection of the event is that I quickly caught my limit of Rainbow trout within about 30 minutes and returned to camp with a full stringer of fish. I recall my grandfather recalling later that it was the “damnedest thing”, and surely proof of beginners luck. Time embellishes all tales, and true with fish stories the facts of the actual event may no longer support the tale being told. It is true non the less that I had beginners luck!
For the next fifteen years or so, my parents, brother and I would spend a great deal of time in the High Sierra, or other camping locations. My brother and I perfected our fishing technique in the high mountain lakes and streams. We did not always catch our limit, nor did we have a desire to harvest more than we could eat that day, but we often had fresh trout for dinner. Eventually, our camping trips became further and far between and my interest in fishing waned as the cost for a licensed increased.