My mom and I were driving back from my friends house when she said “Austin, Pat called this morning and said he want’s to take you fishing today.” I was the happiest kid alive. I had been tying flies for so long, but this would be my first time flyfishing. My mom had heard from her customers of a stream that ran swift and clear, with many waterfalls and good size trout. I got home and waited for a long, long, time. Eventually I thought Pat had died or something, because I knew he wanted to go flyfishing as much as I did. Eventually he knocked on the front door. I quickly looked for the river in the map, and called the police station for directions. We were going fly fishing at a beautiful Maine river. We walked out the door and we were off. Anticipation was building thinking of me catching my first trout. We drove to the access point and riged up. I didn’t bother waiting for Pat and ran across the road. I think I was using a crudly tied black wooly bugger, a fly that I heard would catch fish and was an all purpose pattern. I fly fished the fast water until Pat came down. We then walked downstream to the most beautifull water I had ever seen, and fish were rising 10 feet away. After a few minutes at the spot, I heard Pat’s rod whip upwards. He had a really nice fish. He played him and I grabbed him. The hook set brought the hook to the upper jaw, and the trout was the most beautifull thing I had ever seen come out of the water. It had red spots that glowed like blood. It was the first brown I had ever seen. I released it, and I felt as though I had caught the fish. The day was coming to an end, and even though I hadn’t caught a fish(even though I encountered a large school of big brook trout holding in fast water) I was happy, and I knew I had found my hobby for life.