Fishing in Washington by Going Through Idaho

I am exceedingly blessed to have married someone with lots of relatives and many of them enjoy fishing. What is singularly amazing is that the two brothers Wayne is most connected to live in Washington State, but to get to their homes we have to drive through Idaho first.

Wayne and I at the undisclosed beaver pond.

Yesterday we connected with brother Mick and his wife Lisa and began a trek that lasted well into the afternoon. I cannot tell you where the fishing hole is because we took such a circuitous route to it that even leaving breadcrumbs on the dusty road was ineffectual.

The light on the beaver pond at mid-day.

And what a gorgeous day! Sunny, but not too warm, a slight breeze but sadly not enough to keep all the deer flies and other biters off our skin... scratched a lot when I got home.

We left the fish with Mick who was going to smoke them.

And we almost left Peaches at the pond because her hearing has gotten so bad that she was sleeping when we started to leave and was unaware we were packing up.

Mick moved over to another edge for a better cast.

The location is a beaver pond deep in an area called "The Bear Paw" which is sort of south of Priest Lake (the gem of Idaho lakes) and near some of the rivers that either flow into it or out of it. Found it on a map yet?

Lily pads probably make nice shade for the fish.

Before we headed out on this trip, I bought myself a fishing pole and got to use it for the first time. I only caught one fish, about 8 inches, but Wayne caught at least six. Lisa caught a couple, too. Mick spent so much time putting worms and bobbers on my pole and Lisa's that he was way behind in the totals.

There was a lot of brotherly rivalry about the achievements and plenty of ribbing making it a fun day.


Along the way back, we saw some interesting mushrooms and some moose droppings. I kidded Wayne that perhaps that was as close as he was going to get to a moose this trip.

Wayne is pointing to the pile of moose droppings.

It was an interesting drive from the secret pond to the very un-secret Priest Lake, a huge body of water in the northernmost corner of Idaho, bigger than Lake Coeur D'Alene. But the filtering in the sky did not set the lake off to its best colors. Still it was impressive.

Another day we might have the chance to see it as the real jewel it is of the Northwest.

Priest Lake from the eastern side; miles and miles of waterline.

37 Years Ago

It seems hard to believe that 37 years have rushed by. Today, 37 years ago, I gave birth to my son and surprisingly, given some of the risky experiences he's had, he's still alive and presumably surviving. At least, I think he is.

Last year, just before Christmas, I turned up at my home in Florida to begin discussions with him about selling it and getting it ready for the market. I intended to share some of the benefits with him because I thought he was taking care of the property.

What I found was a dump. I had been conned, tricked, manipulated and convinced by my son that he was truly managing it by mowing, trimming, taking care of issues - all the things one has to do to keep a home livable. But he was not doing anything.

And he was undoubtably using drugs and alcohol again, totally against our agreement, as I saw garbage strewn from the back door to the street with bottles and other trash.

The grief and anger I felt at that moment was tremendous along with the huge disappointment of discovering what a liar my son had become. It affected my relationship with my boyfriend at the time, who has had years of dealing with ex-cons, and who tried to help me understand what had been going on. But my rage got directed at him and we split up for awhile.

In time, now over six months since that day, I have come to accept that my son is troubled, and that I can no longer fix him. He is an adult who is entitled to make his own choices, which does not include getting help. Many times in the past ten years I have encouraged, cajoled, pleaded, even threatened all to no avail.

But more than that singular event, which was a turning point in my life, there are all the wonderings and wanderings that I have done since then.

As parents (or aunts, uncles or cousins) we see a child growing and have no idea what life choices will be presented or how the path will unfold. And we don't see how we may play a part in that drama  and sometimes because the life is foreshortened the stage is quickly cleared.

It has not been pleasing to see how many peers of my son have not made it to 37. Some have died from being enlisted to fight a war, some fighting wars on home turf, some from despair, some called accidents, and a few were the consequences of a high school celebration gone horribly wrong.

Ten years ago in Everett, WA during SeaFair when things
appeared to be going along better.

So to celebrate this achievement of one child surviving 37 years, I am making a donation to a local fund that provides hope for young men and women to better themselves and to realize their full potential. And I hope there is someone somewhere who is donating to a similar charity that will benefit my son, wherever he may be. And if he should read this, I want him to know that nothing stops a mother's love and prayers for his protection.