Max Jacoby flyfishes at the 203 pond near Baker City on June 24, 2025. (Lisa Britton/Baker City Herald)

Some 20 years ago, I needed an extra class at Boise State University, so I signed up for flyfishing — along with quite a few members of the football team.

I don’t remember if we ever fished in a river, but I do remember the practice for casting on the grassy area near the basketball pavilion and football stadium. I was quickly hooked on the meditative routine of perfecting a cast and laying a perfect line across the grass.

After graduation, I packed my fly rod into the Eastern Oregon mountains and delighted in the strikes of hungry trout.

Then my brother accidentally snapped the tip off the rod, so my flyfishing took a pause. Then life happened, as it does, with marriage and kids.

Fast forward to now and our son, Max, is 14 and obsessed with flyfishing. He’s convinced us and his grandparents to spend hours at local ponds — 203, Haines and North Powder.

He’s getting a bit tired of the tiny bluegill that enthusiastically strike the fly, and he’s looking forward to summer hikes and backpack trips to high mountain lakes.

After using an old rod for a while, which had a loose section that flew off with the line about every other cast, he decided to use his lawnmowing money to buy a new flyfishing kit.

And, in this era of technology, he tracked the package route to Baker City and waited — impatiently — for the FedEx truck.

Although interests can be fleeting in the teenage era, I’m excited for this chapter because it means I have a flyfishing buddy — even though I’m now relegated to the dysfunctional rod that we finally glued together.

Maybe I’ll save my money for a new rod, too.

— Lisa Britton, Go! Eastern Oregon editor