It’s 6:25 a.m. on March 1, and the first light of day is just peeking over the hills towering above the fogged-over, rushing 55-degree waters of Roaring River. 

You’re holding a fly rod in one hand and mug of coffee in the other, waiting ever so patiently for the Opening Day gun to be fired. Your 10-year-old is next to you bouncing in anticipation with their freshly-tied hook and chartreuse-colored plastic worm flinging in circles 2 feet away.

Five, four, three, two, one…

BANG! BANG!

The gun has sounded and you and your kid both launch your lines. Theirs immediately gets tangled in a nearby tree limb, but yours — yours is taken by the flow from the baffle and snapped up by a 9.2-pound rainbow beauty that in a few weeks will be mounted on your wall.

As you net the beast and attach it to a stringer, you take a deep breath and yank your kid’s line from its entanglement. That hook and worm weren’t important anyway.

It’s a tale as old as time, reaching through three, four or five generations of families from all across Missouri, the four-state area and the nation.

It will be my 12th year on the banks this March 1, camera in tow searching to capture these meaningful moments between family and friends. 

I’m to the point now I’ve done it so many times I see the same people — always in the same spots — and have had to search harder for anglers previously unpublished. Numbers on a Saturday opening this year should help me in that endeavor.

It’s an honor to be able every year to not only capture the beauty of our gem of the Ozarks, but also the beauty of future reminiscence.

While I rarely get to wet a line on Opening Day, I have no shortage of memories with my family and friends at Roaring River since moving to Cassville in 2014. 

At that time, I didn’t think much of having the park so close by. Over time, it’s come to be a favorite hangout and quick getaway, primed for picnics and play, fishing and relaxation, tall tales by the bonfire and more.

There’s nothing quite like tradition that brings us together, and memories emblazoned by the fuel of that tradition at Roaring River State Park — they last forever.

Here’s to you and yours making more, hopefully with a lunker on your first cast instead of a tree branch!

P.S. Carve out some time to venture to Cassville to eat, play and shop. There’s more memories to be made just 7 miles up the hill!