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A Man Takes a Boy Fishing

Dad was a pilot in the USAF, stationed at Ernest Harmon AFB in Stephenville, and Mom was a local from St. George's, working on base. They met and married, and I was born in the base hospital. We moved to the States when I was still a rug rat, but as a youth, returned to St. George's and spent summer vacations with my grandmother, Hazel Tulk. I befriended a local family by the name of Cutler, and became quite attached to them. Percy, the father, adopted me for the summers and took me salmon fishing with his sons. A kind, patient and gentle man, he taught me the noble sport of fly-fishing for Atlantic salmon. In return, I, as a somewhat accomplished fly-tyer, made the salmon flies we used on our numerous trips to Flat Bay Brook and Fischell's Brook (scheduled salmon rivers). In the photo I submitted, Percy takes us up Fischell's river to his favorite spot, known as Joe Delaney's Hole, where he had in the past taken numerous large salmon. Upon arrival, we'd set up camp and spend a couple of glorious days fishing, building campfires, and making salmon stew in a big pot with fresh caught salmon and the onions and potatoes we'd brought along. These were very wild and exotic experiences for a city boy from Ridgewood, New Jersey, and when I'd reluctantly return home at summer's end, all I'd think about during the school year was how agonizingly slow the time would pass until next summer came 'round and I could return to my beloved family and friends in Newfoundland.

- F. Steve

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