There was plenty of Great Grandpa and Wyle bonding time on this trip. Wyle was fishing with a stick the first day we went out, so Brian bought her a cute little fishing pole that you could cast and reel with. She loved it, though it took the whole week to get the hang of casting.
We went out several times, sometimes all four of us or sometimes in pairs during Wyle's nap and after she went to sleep. We fished in the morning, we fished in the afternoon, and we fished at night. I love this time of year when it is light clear past eight at night. I am always a little saddened when the sun slips behind the mountains, but that joyful feeling that intense late afternoon glow gives me hangs with me for days.
The fish weren't big, but they were plentiful. Our first meal we had trout, bluegill, and catfish. We decided the bluegill, though the smallest of the bunch, had the best flavor, so we were fishing for just them later in the week. We ate them by the dozen, and Wyle was fascinated by the cleaning process. Grandpa would scale them and Bri would gut them and I just took photographs and ate the finished product. There is nothing like eating fresh fish you caught yourself!