Having raised six children I’m keenly aware they do not retain most childhood memories. I also have my own childhood experience to support that conclusion. My father died when I was three, and that’s the exact number of memories I have of him (one of them was being left in the waiting room at the hospital where he died). Our family moved out west five years later, and I have maybe 30-plus distinct memories from those years preceding our relocation to Nevada (about 5 of which relate to the removal of my right kidney at age 6 due to the discovery of a Wilm’s Tumor). Of course I have many more memories from my teenage years, but I find it remarkable what I cannot recall from my early youth.
It had been over 11 years since I fished with my good friend and fellow pescador, Bill Bergan. In November 2003 I flew to Sacramento where Bill picked me up and whisked me off to fish the lakes at Henderson Springs in Northern California. Since then we have been scheming up new fishing adventures, but we could never connect. I was pushing the waters around the Ruby Mountains south of Elko, Nevada. It turns out the driving time to Elko from Sacramento and Las Vegas was about equal. Bill knew how beautiful the Rubies were from our 1979 backpack trip to Favre Lake on the Ruby Mountain’s Lamoille Canyon trail. We eventually settled on the Ruby Mountain area where Bill was able to meet me, ironically, driving directly from another group fishing trip at Henderson Springs.