Twenty-four years ago, my father and I made our first fishing venture together into the state of Oregon.

We had spent many years already exploring the lakes of Northern California in search of trophy trout, developing our own “secret” method along the way.

So we decided to take our quest a step further north.

We had been told of a lake that was home to giant rainbow trout, and hardly anyone fished there. No crowds, big fish — what more could a fisherman ask for? So we set out to discover a place called Upper Klamath Lake.

The lake’s water is a most unlikely trout habitat — it’s stained a brown, tea-like color and surrounded by a marsh of tules.

But when our first day produced rainbows of four and six pounds for us, a tradition was instantly born!

Upper Klamath Lake became a must-do trip for us every spring. You can’t help but look forward all winter to the chance at catching monster trout!

And catch them we did. I have no idea how many we landed over the years, but each one was a unique thrill.

We made a great fishing team, Dad and I. We took turns working the boat motors, netted each other’s fish, and of course handled the camera for each other as we posed with our trophies.

But these trips were always about more than just catching big fish.

Sure, the lunkers certainly add to the experience — but just being out there in nature, and sharing the adventure together, that’s what was really important.

When you spend all day in a boat with someone, you really get to know one another. You talk about anything and everything that comes to mind.

You form a bond that lasts far beyond the drive home.

It’s not just fishing, it’s sharing an adventure.

Our Oregon adventures expanded over the years to lakes further north.

We began targeting the legendary brown trout of Central Oregon, making a point to discover at least one new lake or stream each year. Eventually we found Paulina Lake, where in 1993 the “Carl Method” fooled a brown that stood as the Oregon state record for over nine years.

As if the tradition

wasn’t strong enough, now we were hooked on Oregon for life!

Every year the trip would be a little different. Sometimes a big caravan of friends would come along, other years it would just be the two of us. We always had a great time, and at one fishing hole or another we would always manage to land a trophy or two on the trip.

When my Uncle Joe and Aunt Pam moved permanently up to Central Oregon, this just added to the family experience as Joe would join us for a few days on the water. There was never a question of, “should we go to Oregon this year,” only, “when are we going?”

These were the good times!

But wise men say all good things must come to an end, and three years ago our annual Oregon fishing trip was in grave jeopardy.

My father had been diagnosed with leukemia the previous fall, and I feared (among countless other things) that this might mean the end of our great family tradition.

As my father’s treatments went on, it became clear that he was not going to be well enough for the big fishing trip that spring.

Then, in a spark of inspiration, my brother Gavin decided to help me keep the tradition alive.

We loaded up the boat, wished Dad good luck (as he wished to us also), and headed off north.

We had a fun time, Gavin and I, catching some nice fish and keeping the tradition alive. We got to spend some one-on-one time together like we hadn’t in quite a while.

I’m really glad I got to do that trip with my brother, especially during what was an otherwise difficult time for the whole family.

Throughout that year my father endured a variety of arduous and painful treatments. But none was successful in defeating the disease, and by the end of the year the doctors told him it was just a matter of time.

Then, something happened the doctors could not explain.

Dad started feeling better! Tests showed the disease was still there, but some unknown miracle was keeping it at bay.

And by the time spring rolled around, he was ready for one more Oregon fishing adventure!

I remember the lakes we visited that year and the fish we caught, but what will forever live in my memory was how much he really enjoyed that trip.

He was so grateful just to be there, out on the water, a part of nature, and full of life. For those few days, he was truly happy.

And those moments are how I’ll always remember him.

That was Dad’s last fishing trip up north, as his inevitable fate finally caught up with him later that year.

But the Oregon fishing tradition continues on. This year my youngest brother, Greg, joined me on the quest for monster trout.

Freshly graduated with a degree from Chico State, Greg was ready to get away from school books and classrooms for a while.

We had a great time, caught some big fish, and strengthened our family bond.

Dad was there too, in memory and in spirit, guiding us along and making sure the really big ones got away — just so we’ll have something to look forward to next year.

Oh yeah, I’ll be there!

Guy Carl is a CPA and partner with BDCo Accountants and Advisors in St. Helena (www.bdcocpa.com). Contact Guy at GC.outdoors@sbcglobal.net.