The boys and I and my friend Jason hit opening day of trout season on a reasonably-kept secret Finger Lakes stream again this past April first. I don’t know if two years counts as tradition, but I’m gonna say we’ve got the start of one on our hands. Once we traipsed past the set-up-camp-on-the-closest-damn-hole-to-the-road-and-dunk-the-hell-out-of-egg-sacks-and-worms crew, we found some space and water. And the snow flew. And the temps had the boys putting their hands in their armpits. And I have no idea how the fish we found made it to where we found them. And a video was made to the Beasties. Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there.