I'll start off with this, maybe fifteen years ago my wife and I were exiting a midsized Sierra Lake in northern California when we came across two light pick-up trucks parked next to each other in opposing directions, both with twelve to fourteen aluminum v-hulls in tow. Leaning on the outer gunnel of each of those trailered boats were older gents, who I assume were jawing about the mornings fishing. I stopped and asked my wife to take in that picture, stating that this was what I aspire too when I hit that age. Going back to my earliest memories of mountain fishing, Klamath & Gregor V hulls were a staple on all of the superior Trout, Mackinaw and Kokanee lakes. Well, that and the wafting aroma given off by the small two strokes that propelled them.
My best friend and I throughout or early teens spent many days rowing twelve-foot Klamath & Gregor V's around numerous lakes trying to figure out the fishing.
I spent most of my twenties up until midlife in fly fishing and have seen hundreds of fly fishers come and go from the calling for any number of reasons. I've known from early on that my days stumbling amongst the bowling balls on western rivers had a number, but like all of us, not knowing what that number was. Two years ago, I got a serious glimpse into what losing my mobility will entail, it served as a wakeup call to expedite my preparations for the next stage of my fishing life. I've regained almost all of my former mobility and range of motion, I'm back to Mt. Biking as much as wish too and shorter hikes but don't know if I'll be able to run again.
I don't mean to get morose here, but for much of my adult life I was surrounded with active fly fishers, some became close friends. Almost all of them are dead now, dying at what we'd all say is way too young. The only three that I've ever fished with that are still alive, none of them are physically able to wade a river, walk a shoreline for a few hours, row a drift boat even on quiet water and two of the three are in their fifties. Draw from that what you will, not everyone will make it through life or their working life with their factory equipment still functioning. Others have flat out ignored taking care of themselves, others still just drove to the left hand side of life's dividing line every day and left us way to early. Of all the anglers I've known and fished with, it's my wife that can still go the distance, row (she did that well before we met), fish any gear, wade and hike. I'm one lucky guy.
So, the plans have been laid, our next drift boat has been ordered, a versatile custom build aimed at what we can and likely will continue to be able to do, at loads we're willing to carry, for waters we will fish in the years to come. To that we are adding a light V- hull aluminum which will be commissioned this spring for midsized motherlode and Sierra lakes.
Next, yet one more move. In the over forty years of marriage my wife and I have enjoyed together, we've never lived in one locale longer than eight years, often less than two. We've downsized something on the order of five times now. Just like retirement, not all of us get it right the first time, some fine tuning is inevitable. Over the years we've had homes literally within yards, to less than four miles from the Yuba, Feather, American, Truckee, Colorado or Kern rivers as well as a few lakes and had a seasonal residence on the Upper Sacramento, so I think we can manage one more jump, maybe two.
We're not done wading rivers and streams, just more thoughtful of the ones we choose and times we target them. In my early twenties on a mid-week off day from guiding I decided to go totally lazz and fish for an hour or so, under and around a highway bridge where tanker trout would get dumped. It was then that I was approached by a well-known outdoors writer who also did a spot on the radio in the early morning about fishing conditions. He had to be forty years my senior and he gently tried to explain to this young man that me exercising the fish in those holes wasn't too swift. That I should leave those areas alone, for the local gentry and children because of the ease of access and the lack of mobility some anglers deal with. I'll admit that I was somewhat ashamed by that, but I respected his words. In the years since I've always referred to such places as Old Geezer holes. I wonder if the young lads of today will be offered the same advice or come to the same conclusion on their own?
Will I find myself back under that bridge someday?
Anyway, I'll be seasonally prepositioning one boat near it's intended target waters (that's if we can boat at all in California ala the Golden Mussels closures) while storing the other at home. Luckily, we're in the position to store both boats indoors at home currently.
So those are the broad strokes of our "Aging Out" plan.
