By Kevin McKay

The Wake-Up Struggle

The alarm blares at 1:30 a.m., and I regret everything. I had only three hours of sleep, thanks to a Tylenol PM, and for a moment, I question my sanity. Why drive ten hours for a day and a half of fishing? But that doubt always fades once I’m on the road.

A 5-hour Energy. Several cups of coffee. By the time the first light touches the horizon, I’m locked in.

A Last-Minute Plan

This trip wasn’t supposed to happen. I had an annual fishing trip planned with friends in late March, but life got in the way, and I had to cancel. Then, our Florida trip got scrapped too.

Out of nowhere, UPS offered VLO (voluntary layoff). I checked flights and texted Stac:

“Want to go to Florida next week?”

She was in. We booked the flight from Wednesday to Monday, which left me with a few open days. What else would I do except drive to New York for steelhead?

I reached out to a buddy who lived there. We planned to meet on the river Sunday afternoon.

Meeting George and Tony

I arrived at noon, checked into the lodge, and quickly geared up. As I walked down the bank, I didn’t see my buddy, but an older guy was standing there.

“Are you Kevin?”he asked.

I nodded. He explained that my friend had to leave early because his wife was cold, but I was welcome to fish with him. His name was George, and soon after, his buddy Tony joined us. Both were in their late 70’s an inspiration. If I stay healthy, I’ve got another 20 years of fishing in me.

As I rigged up, George was already hooked into a nice steelhead. I grabbed the net and helped him land it. Moments later, Tony had one on. These two had it dialed in.

They let me rotate into the lineup, and I managed to land one myself. Before leaving at 4 p.m., they had put on a clinic, making every cast count. With the time change, I fished until 6:30 p.m., but my tired body was running on fumes. I hooked a few more but landed none.

That night, I had one plan: wings, a burger, wine, and tying flies. And, of course, watching COPS a long-running joke because we don’t get it at home, but it always seems to be on when we travel.

I walked into the Altmar Bar & Grill and sat at the bar. To my right? George and Tony.

Earlier that day, Tony had talked about bourbon. Now, he offered to buy me a drink.

“Bourbon on the rocks,”I said.

He ordered me a double.

I got my food to go, a bacon burger and their legendary Bottom of the Barrel wings. As we waited, we talked about fishing, bourbon, and the fish they catch in Connecticut.

The Morning Bite

The plan for day two was simple: start across from George and Tony, fish solo for a while, then meet back up with them before they left.

I woke up at 5 a.m. and tied a few flies, too tired the night before after the drive and double bourbon. By the time I stepped outside, the sun was rising. Time to fish.

I waved to George and Tony from across the river. Within minutes, they were into fish. I watched them hook and land steelhead all morning. Even though I’ve caught hundreds of them, it still messes with my head when others are catching and I’m not.

But then, I hooked up. A small steelhead, 5 to 7 pounds. Then another. This one was bigger  30 to 32 inches. Maybe I hooked a few more, but at this point, the trip wasn’t about the fish. Is it ever?

A Surprise Visitor

Right after landing my first fish, I got a text from Tait, my oldest son.

“How’s the fishing? Crowds?”

I sent him some pictures and asked why.

“I’m on my way. Be there around noon.”

I had no idea he was coming. A great surprise. He arrived with Aaron and Ben, two guys he works with. We fished together for a bit before I gave them my spot and headed back to Tony and George.

I knew they’d leave at 4 p.m., and when they did, I took over their spot until dark. Tait and Ben had watched them hook fish all day, so they knew the spot was loaded. They hooked a few but didn’t land any.

That night, I went back to the Altmar Bar & Grill for another round of wings and a burger. And of course, Tony and George were there. We shared a drink and talked about the day, about Tony coming to Maine to fish with me. Then, I packed up and watched COPS one last time.

The 4 A.M. Wake-Up Call

At 4 a.m., my phone rang. Half-asleep, I answered.

“This is Tony. You gotta get up to drive home anyway.”

He wanted to tell me about a spot Tait could fish and offered to meet him if he needed help.

As I drove home, I thought about the past day and a half. I didn’t think about the fish. Instead, I thought about how I never once worried about problems back home. I thought about how I hope, at 77, I’ll still be making the trip to the Salmon River to fish. I thought about how great it was to hang out with Tony and George, two Vietnam vets, one a Marine, one Army, both proud of their service.

And I thought about how I got to spend half a day fishing with my oldest son.

So, was it worth getting up at 1:30 a.m. and driving ten hours to fish?

Absolutely.