Word on the streets around the cafes and sporting goods stores of Bishop was that big trout were biting on the Owens River near Big Pine. So for one day Dad and I abandoned our beloved streams for the slow-moving Owens, in our never-ending search for more and bigger trout…and newer waters. We followed the landmarks and walked along the eastern bank to a promising bend with the river about five feet below us, and threw our lines in. Not too many casts and I tied into a big one, likely bigger than anything I’d seen Dad catch. I nursed the hog closer, fearing he could flop free in raising him with the limber fly rod. Gently yet swiftly I landed him on the bank—the…