Was out yesterday waist deep in a river, having an absolutely great time not catching steelhead. So, as often happens, I had plenty of time to think, and suddenly I realize: I wouldn't be here enjoying this moment if it weren't for my dad taking me fishing from when I was about 8 to 12 years old. Fishing wasn't really dad's thing, so I bet he didn't get me out more than once or twice a year. I remember several trips for trout, a couple for salmon, and exactly two for steelhead. None of it involved flyfishing; that came later and was inspired by friends who cast the fly. But if it weren't for those early days when my dad introduced me to the magic and mystery of rivers and lakes and trying to solve the riddle of how to catch the fish that swim beneath the mirrored surface of myriad waters, I might have missed out on this journey that has added so many days beyond value to my life's experience. How could I ever have known it was a riddle that can never be completely answered and, so, would engage my attention and imagination for all these years. I'm guessing, as with so many things in this world, there are many roads that brought WFF members to this sport. Family or friends or maybe "The Movie"... Who do you have to thank for introducing you to this endless pursuit of silvery fishes? .