The SEQUEL - REFOUND GLORY
by Robb Kuchenoff (written June 20, 2009)

The night didn't make any promises of fulfilling our expectations. I checked and rechecked the current angler reports and escapement and I was remiss to give Tori any good news about what we may catch, in fact I assured her that I would do my best to put her onto a few fish but was not making any promises that we would do as good as past trips to our beloved Kenai Ferry Crossing fishing hole. We loaded up our 4Runner with our staples and gear and once again made our way down the meandering, construction laden Seward Highway to our "spot" on the Kenai River at the ferry crossing. On the way the trip was a stark contrast to the same one three years previous. At 8 years old, there was a never ending banter and conversation with a 2nd grade girl made for some interesting laughs... not tonight; tonight the conversation was intermittent and did not include the favorite parts of her Junie B. Jones books or how many cherry drops were performed at recess. In the transition from an 8 year old to an 11 year old young lady the marked differences were my title had morphed from "Daddy" to just plain "Dad", the music was not the latest Sesame Street Compilation but of Lady Ga Ga (I honestly thought my ears were going to start bleeding at some point).

Yes, my Victoria has started her journey into adulthood with minor changes in her eyes but massive leaps in my own. When we were not talking about boys or some of the snippy girls we were talking about music and how I'm so out of touch with today's top 40 artists. My ascention into "dad" has obviously left some gaps in our generational chasm and I'm not really one to be that upset about it - but I did find myself missing the cute little pig-tailed girl that insisted she wear one of my old hats for good luck.

Midway through our journey, Tori (who used to be Victoria) asked if she could play monopoly on my cell phone and I agreed as long we change the music to something more paletable for my own tastes. Once the terms were agreed to, she fell into an electronic trance and I was left with remembering the good ole days of knock knock jokes and when our next sugar fix was going to happen. Our trip took a bit longer than expected and shortly after midnight our SUV was blessed with a parking space in front of the ferry office. We exited the car, stretched and survived the outhouses before we regrouped and decided to take a look at how the fishing was.

To my delight I found that successful stringers abounded on both sides of the river and I was reinvigorated by them. "She's going to tear them up again." I thought to myself. I asked if she wanted to fish right away and she expressed that she was tired and wanted to sleep a bit first. I did not find any reason to argue the point and donned my waders and grabbed my bait caster. "Don't let the car run too long, and if you do have it running make sure the air is on recirculate." I advised.

"Don't worry, dad. I don't think I even need the heat but I'll make sure if I do." she replied.

"I'm going to fish for a bit and come back and join you in a while, honk twice if you need me for anything." (Something I hoped I wouldn't regret saying. I could just see the angry bed heads poking out of the rv's in the lot and getting the stink eye from everyone else, fortunately she fell directly to sleep and never had to touch the keys.

I worked longer than I wanted to get my fish. The sixth on my stringer came around a quarter to 5 in the morning and I was just beat. I crawled into the uncomfortable front seat and bantered slightly with my bleary eyed fishing buddy who went back to sleep faster than it took me to me get comfortable. I was thankful at that point, I was beat and if my daughter wanted to fish at that moment I would have done it but not have been at my best. We woke a couple of hours later and the population around us was amazingly larger than when we had arrived. We ate a bit and got ready for our hop across the river with dismal feelings in our stomachs. We had been intently watching the hundreds of individuals flipping, rinsing and repeating with no fish up or down the river. "Dad, this does not look good." Tori said. "We're just going to have to try and see if we get lucky, kid. This is when we get tested and distinguish ourselves as fishers or catchers." was my reply.

The handicap hole was literally elbow-to-elbow and the rest of the river looked the same up and down. We managed to make our way to an opening that I'm sure God himself was nice enough to give us. The folks on each side of the spot were not casting far, not standing more than 2 feet from the water's edge and were getting hook ups about once every 10 minutes. She got right on top of her duties and with a little reminder session of the technique, was soaking her fly in a repetitious effort to hook an unlucky sockeye. "Make sure you keep those safety glasses on." I whispered to her.

"Yes sir, I will."

"You're daughter has such good manners." the guy next to me said. "You're doing a good job, dad." he continued.

"Thanks, her mom is amazing and gets most of the credit." I said, hoping that by some twist of fate the comment would make it back to her and I'd score a brownie point or three.

We fished intenly for a few hours and were about to give up and head back home when she lit into a drag peeling red that surprised us both. She yelled clearly "FISH ON!!!" "FISH COMING DOWN!!!" and I think that even the resident grizzlies started to part from their path. After some careful maneuvering and the assitance of a kind fellow with a landing net, her prize made it to bank and a high five was exchanged with anyone who would hold up their hand. "That's it. That's what I was looking for." I thought to myself. The giddy little girl that couldn't wipe the smile off her face was standing in front of me again. We needed to leave so our angling efforts were done for the day, but she did finally get her fish.

On our way home she talked more about the cool things she was going to do with her best friend Amy that just returned from a long road trip. The fish was a flash in the day, a highlight and nothing more I thought. I was not that hurt, afterall she is now a pre-teen and such things are not as important to little girls as they are to big dads. But my pseudo-downer that I had began to think was interuppted by that cute little kid now called "Tori".

"Dad....?"

"Yea sweetie?"

"You're the best dad ever, thanks for taking me on another midnight run; I'm sorry for sleeping when you were catching fish."

"You never have to apolgize for sleeping, that's a bit silly, and you are more than welcome... I'm glad you still like to come."

"I think that your old orange 3 Rivers hat should be a lucky hat, I didn't catch any fish because I didn't have my lucky hat, can I have it?"

"Absolutely" I said with a contented grin and feeling of success, "absolutely."

GammaDaddy