The death of my parents, and Clyde's deteriorating memory, have brought us to realize how few and precious these later years are with our parents. Last year Judy decided that she and Clyde would have a special trip together, just the two of them, and surprised her Dad on Father's Day with a certificate entitling him to a guided Salmon trip in our jetboat on the Feather River. He couldn't wait to get started. I suggested a campground right on the river. Clyde was impressed when Judy unpacked all the gear, set up the tents and got dinner cooking on the camp stove. Judy was proud to show her father that the lessons learned on those family camping trips were not forgotten. Neither of them had ever been salmon fishing on a river, so a new adventure lay before them. They were ready and waiting for us at 5:00 am. Watching the riverbank fly by on a crisp summer morning, Judy said she could see why we love what we do. I made them ring the "fish bell" for good luck. Years ago I bought this fish-shaped temple bell at the Buddhist Temple in Oroville. (If you are in Oroville, take the opportunity to visit this museum, as it houses three temples and a huge collection of kimonos and memorabilia).

The next day was the last day of salmon season on the Feather. I rang the bell and asked to catch a beautiful little hen. Fifteen minutes later, a sparkling fifteen-pound salmon with a deep purple back and sterling silver body was lying in the bottom of the jetboat. Since then, Dan indulges me in this silliness and we encourage the clients to "ring the fish bell" too. Fishermen will never pass up the chance to stack the deck in any way possible. While Judy and Clyde surveyed the river, Dan explained some of the characteristics of our quarry. Clyde may not remember what he had for breakfast, but he definitely remembers how to fish. Dan patiently showed him how we fish the salmon on this river and he seemed to catch on. Dan hooked up first and passed the rod to Clyde. He listened carefully as Dan instructed him on how to play the fish and finally he was netted. Clyde's smile was as bright as the fish. Throughout the day he was full of stories of hunting and fishing trips long past and he waved constantly. Once he had his fish, he made sure that everyone we passed knew he had one in the fish box, holding up one finger and then two fingers after every wave. Clyde limited out and Judy landed her first salmon. Dan talked her through it, but she was so nervous that all she can remember of that experience is "Walk and reel!!" It was great to see how proud Clyde was of his "little girl" as he pounded her on the back. They had both landed their largest fish ever, and were thrilled. They shared fishing together along with the chance to spend time at their campsite playing dominoes by the fire and watching the sunset glow in the river's reflection.

When steelhead season on the Smith River was approaching this year, Judy made sure she and Clyde were on Dan's book. We knew it was going to be cold, and probably rainy, but they were determined to fish the famous Smith River together for the first time. Judy had heard me tell her over and over how stunningly beautiful "my" river was; drifting through giant ancient 'grandfather' redwoods on moody aqua water. I had described the fire and heart of the valiant steelhead, and the raw power of the battle. She was more than ready, no matter what the weather conditions, and prayed that Clyde would "get one in the boat".

The day started at 6:00 am with breakfast at the Hiouchi Café. This café and the Lunker Bait Shop comprise the command center for Smith River fishermen and guides, and the level of excitement and anticipation every morning of fishing season is palpable. Judy and Clyde showed up dressed for arctic conditions. While Dan was putting in at the "Forks", Judy kept praying for her Dad to get a fish. As they drifted through the first hole, Dan explained the techniques of driftboat fishing on the Smithy. Judy was tense, thinking they only had one chance at this, and was surprised when Dan started rowing them back up the river to rotate through the hole again. She felt awkward casting from the boat and was saddened to watch Clyde fumbling as well. He was used to fishing from the shore, but there was no doubt that he no longer had the reflexes of the young man who had taught her to fish. After several passes through this hole they drifted down river toward the "Covered Bridge" hole. Foaming water tumbles wildly under the old covered bridge, through a wide pool, exiting through a set of bubbling riffles. The sounds of the river's voice and the rhythm of the dipping oars can be mesmerizing. The rods bounce, telegraphing the texture of the riverbed. Focusing every sense, you're poised for any change signaling "Fish On".

Meanwhile, in the background, Dan is reading the rods and giving instructions. They fished through the "Cable Hole", the "Gauge Hole", and were just entering "White Horse" when Dan yelled, "Set the hook"! Clyde reacted instinctively; adrenaline surged, all serenity was shattered, and he was instantly young again. Following Dan's prompts, Clyde fought a shimmering fourteen-pound steelhead to the boat and it was swept into the net. Judy breathed a huge sigh of relief and sent a thank-you skyward. The pressure was off and the rest of the day was now icing on the cake. This would be the only fish the river would offer up that day, but Judy was grateful for this gift and the chance to share it with her dad. These are precious moments, carried forever within our hearts.

As we sat in the Ship Ashore bar watching the Super Bowl, Clyde couldn't stop talking about his steelhead. He remembered we had told him a female was called a hen, so at each retelling, he described landing the "Big Rooster".

Columnist Joan Carter co-owns, with her husband, Dan Carter's Guide Service.