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Saturday morning started early. At four in the morning, the alarm clock went off and by five my wife and I were on the road. The destination was a Tennessee river to meet a guide out of Davidson River Outfitters. 

When we met the guide, he hitched a ride in my truck so that we could have a car at the bottom of our trip. One of the first things he said was, “My wife would never wake up that early to go fishing.”            

This statement struck a chord as I recalled some of my favorite dates with my wife, Corey. Our dating life is fishy. 

When I was finishing up school in Charleston, our date budget was less than extravagant. Many evenings we would find ponds in neighborhoods to fish with fast food following.         

I have fond memories of the sun setting over the marsh with the silhouette of a pretty lady dancing with a bluegill in a neighborhood retention pond. Add to that the smell of bug spray and you have reached the peak of romance.        

Some couples travel to high-end luxury resorts to be waited on hand and foot. While those can be fun, they have not rivaled a fishing trip to Yellowstone on Labor Day weekend of 2010.           

That weekend, we drove around in a rented Subaru Outback, setting up camp each night. We cooked basic meals that tasted incredible after a long day of fishing.            

On the last day of the trip, we saw Old Faithful and other thermal features first thing in the morning. After lunch consisting of the last slices of deli meat and potato chip crumbs, we went fishing. The weather was warm and sunny. We fished our way up a stream coursing through a meadow interspersed with bison and elk.           

Around five in the evening, the wind picked up and dark clouds were building north of us. The temperature started to plummet. Our T-shirt’s were quickly exchanged for fleeces as we scurried to the car to set up camp.           

As we boiled water for our spaghetti, the sun dipped below the mountains and snowflakes began to fall. Sitting around the fire we ate our fill of spaghetti with hands that still smelled like the fish we caught earlier.         

I guess you could say our relationship has always been a little fishy. Our guide this weekend found out quickly that he wasn’t guiding a husband with a wife that was being a good sport. He was guiding two anglers who plan on fishing with each other until we physically can’t. 

Until then, we will keep our fishy dating life active so we will have plenty of stories to retell.