Grew up in Kansas City, so we had to travel far to find a trout stream. When I was in 8th grade I hooked my first trout on a fly that I tied (remember to this day, a black wooly worm with brown hackle). It was in a roaring, bubbly, frothy pool on the Roaring Fork River (appropriately) outside of Aspen, Colorado on a summer family vacation. I couldn't believe a fish could even live in the middle of that commotion!
My dad, who wasn't an expert fly fisher, but knew some basics, taught me how to cast and strip the fly in.
As you can tell by the pic, I wasn't too jazzed or anything about this fly fishing thing.
Or you could say that I was hooked for life.
Wild Bill
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