DESPITE DAD’S BEST EFFORTS, somewhere along the way, I lost the fishing gene. I enjoy fishing; for Dad, though, fishing was serious business. Family vacations meant camping at Horsetooth Reservoir, west of Fort Collins. Like clockwork every morning, long before sunrise, Dad would wake my older brother and me. We’d dress in the dark, gather our gear and head off on an hour-long hike to the other side of the cove. Why we couldn’t just walk to the shore a hundred yards from the tent I never understood. The hike involved climbing and descending a steep bluff; and already at ...
