Since that passing of Jon, my brother-in-law, to colon cancer a couple of years ago, my nephew Brandon and I are frequently visiting Brandon’s inherited cabin in Northern Michigan. Trips together center on completing various projects to sustain the cabin, a wee bit of partying, and always finding time for some trout fishing.

Both of us are novices in the art of fly fishing; enjoying natures serinity while also learning the process of attractively presenting the seasonal hatch in form of a dry fly without spooking the native brook trout, rainbow or larger brown trout, we are pursuing.

Fast forward to today, and after a long morning of trout fishing on this cold spring fed river and some afternoon cabin repairs, I decide to rest along the rivers edge with a cold beer in toe. While comfortably reclining on the wicker lounge chair, I find myself debating whether to take a nap or take in a cool refreshing swim.

I decide on a late-day dip. In a headfirst dive from the dock, I submerge deep within this cold lazy river. This plunge down under soon causes quite a shiver. As I resurface and gasp for a full breath of air, I feel heart palpitations gaining rapid pace. With senses in overdrive, I take in the rustling sounds of aspen and birch leaves along the shores edge. And with arms and legs rapidly flapping to stay afloat, I wonder will my deep breathing, on verge of hyperventilating, calm these peculiar palpitations?

Quite unexpectedly, I find myself in a state of paralysis and unable to swim. Try as I might, I feel the current pulling me downstream from the dock, flowing on as this cold current capture creates its lock. What seems to be lead weights tied to my feet, I find myself sinking into the deep. No longer able to hold my breath, I draw in the cold river water, flooding my lungs.

Sensing my own drowning as my future demise, I succumb to my fate and go completely numb. But to my utter surprise I find myself transformed and swimming amongst neighboring trout. What was once a unbearably chilling current is now a place of frolicking, darting, underwater play. Try as I might , I find that none of the other trout seem interested in being my playmate. As I watch some of them on the rise, I find myself wondering, ‘What is it they’re after and what are they doing?’

I am perfectly content to swim and play down under, but as time passes on and daylight turns to dusk, I realize my hunger and the need to eat is a must. I now see the stoneflies landing and dancing on waters edge, so I join my fellow trout and raise my nose above the surface, just a hedge. Gulping down my first stonefly, then the next and next. What a wonderfully delicious treat!

This gorging continues as I ponder my new life as a trout. It’s not so bad, I think to myself. I swim as I please and eat plentiful during each day’s hatch. In this new life as a trout, I have no social media pressure or bad worldly news to cause me dispair. My only threats in life are the polluted trash from the human floaters and the neighboring river otters, but since I am a strong and fast swimming trout, the otters causes me no harm. Yes, this is not a bad new life.

This trout life euphoria continues for many days until a day the hatch of choice offers a fly with a hoist. When I close my mouth and feel the painful tug on my lip, I fight hard to get free; swimming deeply, then counter currently, and finally lunging high in an airborne fighting flight.

All these efforts I’m extending are not changing my fate. I am soon hoisted from the water in a webbed basket looking straight into the eyes of my prior self’s nephew, Brandon. Grasping for water to flow through my gills, I again suffer from a no oxygen feel.

Although some bodies of water are catch and release only, not this stretch of river and I sense Brandon has other ideas for my fate. I am soon thrown into a wicker fishing basket on the edge of this cold lazy river. Try as I might, I can not get oxygen into my lungs. I’m flopping and flopping, but the basket lid must have a latch as my efforts are only making me more light headed. I soon suffocate in the absence of air.

Then I feel the wicker basket shake as I awake on the wicker lounge chair, pondering the state of this whole affair. Was this all just a dream of predator becoming the prey, or was this transformational journey something more?

I look up with dreary eyes to see my nephew, one hand holding the back of the wicker chair and another holding a cold beer. He asks, “Have a nice rivers edge snooze?”

“Quite an interesting siesta.” I reply.

And after staring into this cold lazy river some more, I say, “I think I’ll join the Trouts Unlimited (TU) Chapter river cleanup tomorrow and I also feel our TU Chapter should sponsor this section of river as ‘Catch and Release only’.

Oddly enough, I felt the exact opposite way the day before.


This story is in honor of my brother in law, Jon, and his vision to bring family together to this riverside cabin in the woods.