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Late last week I promised my two boys that I’d take them to Seven Pines Lodge to do a bit of early season fly fishing for trout. Waking up Sunday and seeing the snow begin to fall and the wind pick up, I expressed my concerns that maybe it wasn’t the best day to go fishing. Anders and August simultaneously threw their heads back and pitifully moaned, Awww! No fair! You said we were going to the lodge today!” Well, what was I to do? After all, I did promise them that we’d go. Had I only had myself to think about, I’d have rushed out the door to fish in a blizzard, but with a three and seven-year-old in tow, it had all the makings to quickly become the shortest trip in recorded history.

After we arrived at the lodge and the boys jumped out of the truck, it took Augie all of thirty seconds to somehow punch his right boot deep into a snow bank. I grabbed him by the shoulders and attempted to extricate his leg from the hard pack. His snow covered foot emerged, but the boot remained deep in the snow. Immediately following that harrowing experience, the tears started and wails of “I’m cold!” and “I want to go home!” filled the air. So it suddenly became apparent that Anders and I would be working against the clock…a very loud and persistent clock named Augie.

We trudged through the snow down to the creek and picked up a few trout right away, taking turns catching fish out of a good run. Then I hit a good rainbow that went maybe 17 or 18-inches. I thought I was the cat’s pajamas for about 10 minutes, having caught the big fish, and truth be told, I was basking in that whole look-up-to-Dad-cuz-he's-the-coolest-fly-fisherman-in-the-world deal. I had Anders hold the fish for a quick picture because his hands were beginning to get cold and I really didn't want him fumbling with my new camera.

Anders decided to keep after a particular stretch of water, so Augie and I moseyed downstream a bit to hit some different water. By this time, Augie was really ready to go, so I finally gave in and put him up on my shoulders, assuring him that we were mere moments away from heading back to the warm truck and home.

Then, as if right on cue, Anders starts yelling for me, but more importantly, the net. 

"I need the net! Hurry up!  It’s huge!"  Hmm, seems like I've heard that one before. Talk about your déjà vu. I looked through the heavy snowfall to see Anders 7 1/2' 4wt. doubled up and throbbing. He was palming the spool and I heard that telltale sound that only a good fish makes as it burns line off a reel in a big hurry. Man! I ran upstream with Augie bouncing and flailing on my shoulders, mad and screaming again because we suddenly changed directions and weren't heading back to the truck any longer.  Well, lo and behold, there's Anders with a dandy rainbow that he worked to the bank.  After Augie’s less than graceful dismount from my shoulders, I slipped the net under the fish and once again, Anders, the punk 7-year-old kid, catches the big fish of the day.

I know Augie would just as soon forget about that hour we spent at the lodge. His rod was rigged up but he told me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to fish. It’s pretty hard to misconstrue a 120-decible, ear splitting “NO!” from the boy. That was fine. Forcing a fly rod into his hand on that day, or any day for that matter, wouldn’t have been the smart thing to do. As far as Anders and I were concerned, it was a magical hour on the stream!  The weather conditions certainly weren’t ideal to be out chasing trout, and it would’ve been easy enough to call the trip off from the warmth of our living room, but now I’m glad I kept my promise and we stuck with our plan. I'm proud that the kids hung in there and had the experience.

Anders' hands were beet red by the time we quit, but he reluctantly bit off his fly and wound up the line. We’ll come back when the weather is a nicer. Maybe then Augie will decide to do some fishing. The trout, as always, will be there and waiting for us when we return.

Dan Brown’s weekly outdoor column is brought to you by Frankie’s Bait and Marine, in Chisago City, and St. Croix Outdoors, in St. Croix Falls, Wis.

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