Last September, my grandson Cade and I spent a few days fishing for westslope cutthroat trout in northern Idaho. I count those days among my very best. I consider cutthroats the most beautiful of all trout, perfectly matched to their home in the Idaho Panhandle. At the end of the trip, Cade resloved to go back home to Southern California, find his home water and fish it often. He did just that. Within a few days, photos of him and his girlfriend Ashley with nice bass caught in various suburban ponds began to arrive by text message almost nightly. He is living well where he is. Depending on the water, he fishes with a fly rod or convetional tackle. Unlike me, he doesn't get hung up in purity or need of perfection. I'm watching, and trying to learn.