My father used to fly fish in the rivers of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I always envied his trips with his friends but when I was of age he allowed me to join. Last week just my father and I returned to these storied waters.  While we both caught fish the most warming part was not just being with my father, not staying in a kind friend’s recently opened, historic, inn, but hearing dad’s tales of his adventures there forty years ago. A gift it was.

If you’re in this part of the world, and you should be at some point, check out and do yourself a favor and lodge at Margaret and Derek are top-shelf hosts  It’s elegant comfort and will keep those trout dreams alive in your slumber.