So last Wednesday, I sent off my last email, put my voicemail on extended absence notice and headed for the airport. Destination Salt Lake City, Utah. More specifically, the Green River in Flaming Gorge.

I had fished the Green years back when I was probably 11, but the word “fishing” was a relative term. At the time I had a mullet and I think I spent more time throwing rocks and eating candy than I did fishing. So this would be the first time I would really get a chance to fish the Green. I couldn’t wait.

Unfortunately, the fishing on the Green was far from amazing. We still got a handful of nice Browns and Rainbows, but they weren’t in the bountiful numbers that you’d expect. But regardless of the fish count, I still had an incredible time. For me, fishing isn’t about the number of fish you catch or the amount of time you spend flogging the water in an attempt to coax a fish to the surface. More importantly it’s the time you get to spend outside with those that are close to you. It’s drinking a gin and tonic, sharing stories and making fun of your closest friends. This trip didn’t disappoint.