If my life has had one defining constant it would certainly be fishing.  Fishing has been the basis for recreation and an excuse for disconnection with “my life.”  Fly Fishing in particular has become the benchmark that I use to gage the passing time.  I have lived in Idaho so I could better pursue trout, guided part time so I could gage my interest in that as a vocation, and eventually moved my family to Charleston to pursue my passion for Saltwater Fly-Fishing.  I have followed my passion to catch trout in 12 different states, the Florida coast, even to southern Mexico and Belize.

None of this would have happened if I had not been exposed to fishing by a loving family as a child.  My family had a large pond on the property that was my exposure to fishing as a stalwart in life.  Some of my earliest recollections are of walking the fields below the pond dam ambushing grasshoppers with my aunt or father.  When I collected enough in my metal grasshopper bin I would sprint up the dam to the pond and go to the magic corner that always held brim beds.  My grandfathers’ orange and black cane pole was the conduit to the unseen world that lived below the surface of the pond.

These trips had a distinct family influence.  My aunt and father would help me get bait and unhook fish.  My grandfather took the time to instruct me on how to use the “long” rod that hung in the garage.  He was patient enough to show me the basics of casting and how to tie on a popper.  Since that moment I have lived my best adventures in the natural world with a fly-rod in hand.  I cannot begin to express my thanks to the people who gently, unknowingly set me on this course.

My goal is to expose my girls to this world.  Whether fishing becomes a passion will be up to them, but my responsibility is to share the wonder of the natural world and let them decide where it leads.

We are fortunate to share a neighborhood pier on the Wando.  Conveniently enough there is an oyster point that tends to hold rats and trout, but also has given up croaker, ladyfish, flounder, sharks, a jack, and stingrays.   When I take the girls to the pier they are thrilled to see what comes up in the cast net.  They help pick up the shrimp and mullet and put them in the bucket.  They ask questions that would seem beyond their years and soak in everything they are told.  The world is still new to them and a 12” trout under a cork is as amazing to them as the tailing permit I cast to this year in Mexico was to me.

My time with them catching bait and watching corks is priceless to me.  I regale in their laughter, relish their questions, and delight in their company.  I know well that these little girls will be women soon enough.  Hopefully we will continue to angle together even after they have families of their own.  If not, we will still have memories of Saturday afternoons on the dock, watching the sunset and enjoying the beauty of the low-country together.  I can think of no better gift to give them.

Jon Hill