It amazes me how this all started. But I guess it’s just like any other addiction, one friend starts
doing it, some follow, and the next thing you
know you're hooked. I know one thing, I owe that
friend a lot. I never thought getting into this
whole thing that it would be something that rules
my life. I shortly realized I wanted to be a fishing
guide out west and moved to Colorado. with the
help of that same friend, I found a job. It wasn’t
what I expected to be driving almost 2,000 miles
to be doing, but I got by. I was living there,
fishing before work, after, and scrubbing dishes in
between. The life of a true trout bum. Regardless
of how ridiculously awesome the fishing was
something about home kept calling my name. I had
enough of The west and moved back to SC. I don’t
think I will ever be able to stray away from the
foothills for long. High Appalachia, hatches,
critters, wild fish, blue lines, high fives, and so
much to love. At 22 you start asking yourself
questions every young man has, “what do I want
to be when I grow up?” The answer was obvious. I
want to be a Fly Fisherman.