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The big rainbow came up from the river bottom, that's where the action is for sizable food. My brown and yellow wooly bugger flashed halfway between sky and submerged rock, and that was enough to whet the appetite of a hungry trout. A dark torpedo shape was suddenly behind the fly, then inhaling it, then arcing a full 3 feet out of the water. My heart was pounding, my hands were sweating - but my old timers nerve held steady. After several reel screeching runs the living candy striped prize was mine. The family dog gave the fish a farewell kiss, then I returned it to the mysterious depths it called home.

EARLY MOMENTS IN A FISHING GUIDES LIFE

When my son Matt was eleven I took him on a fishing trip to Alaska. Then, as now, he had the best eyes for fish of anyone I've ever known. Matt can watch a trout rising to midges 50 feet away, and see the exact moment when they inhale his fly and not the natural. But in this case, my eyes were as good as his, because we were fishing for king salmon in a crystal clear river. Matt and I watched the big king move toward his red and white daredevil (all right, it wasn't a fly, but he WAS only 11 and he only fly fishes now), grab it, turn, and race 100 feet down river in what all seemed like a second. Needless to say, after a very long struggle, he caught the fish unassisted and I took this photo.