Growing up on the banks of the Elk River, Chris Ellis believed that summertime was carved out of the calendar so that people could fish. The town of my youth was a small town, by any means of measurement, and my world within that town in the summer was even smaller — fishing.

Fishing the river was getting good right about the last days of school when the air temperatures began to warm. I have colorful memories of looking out the window of the classroom at an eddy in the river’s current. Looking at the swirly waters, thoughts of smallmouth bass chasing schools of minnows would race through my mind making it impossible to keep from daydreaming of fishing and nearly impossible to stay focused on teacher’s lesson of the day.

In the days immediately following my release into the careless, warm air days of June, the river became the center of my universe. There were wade trips, float trips, picnic dinners along the banks and fishing. Lots of fishing.

Thinking back on the fishing of my youth, things were much simpler. I had a rod and reel. I had a plastic box with a makeshift collection of hooks, bobbers and sinkers. Upon inspection, you may find a lure I was given by an adult for my birthday but most often I lost it, and replaced it with one or two musky lures I found stuck in a log or tree along the river. I had the basics and that is all I needed to fish for the summer – hook tied on to string.