Words and Photos by Nick Richter
I used to watch my dad tie flies all night. I admired his process of meticulously crafting feathers and threads onto a small hook, hoping to mimic the insects of Northwest Wisconsin. Every October, he would take a trip up to the Brule River for his birthday weekend. He and my uncle would rent a cabin and fish for Steelhead from sun up to sun down. The pictures and stories from those weekends are my favorite.
Observation and curiosity led to wanting to try fly fishing for myself. This specific trip, I grabbed my camera to capture my dad and brother fish one of their favorite spots on the Rush River. We found parking near an overpass in a tiny Wisconsin town, geared up, and battled the high brush as we made our way to the river.
Standing knee deep in clear water on a warm summer morning while watching the trout rise around you is a magical experience. And there’s nothing quite like a strike on a fly rod. From matching the hatch, to countless casts, and finally watching the fish rise to devour a hand-crafted fly - the strategic struggle coupled with persevering patience is what makes fly fishing such a special recreation.
I’ve been so lucky to have a knowledgeable and passionate fly fisherman in my life. My dad has inspired me to take on nature and explore the outdoors since I was little. The relationships and memories we have made on the water outweigh the size and fight of the nicest fish… Well, sometimes.