My first and only experience fly-fishing came about sort of by accident.

While on a trip to visit my future in-laws in Colorado, my father-in-law-to-be, Dennis, decided it would be a good idea to sneak away for a day and do some fishing.

So my future wife and I tagged along with Dennis just across the border into New Mexico. We fished the San Juan River, which, as it turned out, is regarded as one of the top fly-fishing waters in North America.

We started out at the outfitter's headquarters in the morning getting geared up. Now, for a girl who had never strapped on a pair of waders, much less walked in them, it was an interesting experience for my wife.

It also turned out our guide was from North Dakota, Joe, a teacher by trade who guided fishing during the summer.

Now the thing about fishing trips is sometimes the way we remember things differs, depending on who you are.

To this day, my wife still maintains she outfished me. And, I let her think that.

The San Juan was an interesting river. We fished the fast water just below the reservoir where it was strictly catch and release.

Downstream further, you could keep a fish or two, depending upon how far you went.

Rainbow trout, 3- to 5-pounders, were everywhere swimming between our feet. So, while my wife was worrying about how the neoprene accented her figure and the fact that she didn't have the cool fly fishing hat all the anglers wear, the competitive side of me was coming to the surface. I wouldn't mind if Dennis caught the first rainbow, but I sure wanted to one-up my wife.

After a quick lesson on how to cast, I hooked a decent trout, but being a guy used to walleye and pike fishing, I did what we do: set the hook.

OK, a bit too hard. A 2-pound test leader isn't really forgiving. So while I was busy retying, my wife landed three fish on consecutive casts.

Once I got the hang of letting the fish do the work and hook themselves, it was off to the races.

While it's still a point of contention between my better half and me, I firmly believe that at the end of the day I caught more fish.

At least that's my story.

That was August.

Around Christmas we received a huge package in the mail from Dennis.

He had taken photos of the trip and had them matted and framed, inset within a map of the stretch of the San Juan we were fishing.

He even included the flies we used. The proof is right there; a 3-foot-by-4-foot work of art that takes up most of one wall in our family room.

We both caught our fish, we both got to see some new country and we both have memories that will last a lifetime.

And at the end of the day, that's what is important.

(Reach reporter Brian Gehring at 250-8254 or brian.gehring@bismarcktribune.com.)