I was up late the other night, channel surfing (as is the male thing to do when we don't have anything else going on). My TiVo probably has 30 hours worth of stuff I've recorded I could have easily watched, but at 2AM, I didn't feel like "getting involved" in anything. Call it a short attention span. Hey, its 2 AM!

As I was clicking through the channels, momentarily stopping at infomercials for the Banjo Minnow, and the latest in high speed cooking technology, I came upon an old black and white TV show I love. I watched the last 20 minutes of the episode I have probably seen at least a dozen times, and when it ended, the familiar theme song stuck in my head as I lazily crawled back to bed.

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Did you know that the Andy Griffith show theme song actually had lyrics? I know we have all heard that familiar whistle a couple zillion times, and we can all make the attempt to pierce out lips and belt it out ourselves. It's easily recognizable with just the first few notes. If I ever was to go on Name that Tune, I know I would get that in two notes.

Now, do me a favor and try to put these words to the sound in your mind:

Well, now, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,
We may not get a bite all day, but don't you rush away.

What a great place to rest your bones and mighty fine for skippin' stones,
You'll feel fresh as a lemonade, a-settin' in the shade.

Whether it's hot, whether it's cool, oh what a spot for whistlin' like a fool.

In my mind, I saw the image with Andy and Opie walking to the lake, and every so often, the little redhead would pick up a rock and throw it into the lake. As I lie in bed, I thought about living in Colorado, and going fishing with my son.

"The Boy" is 13, and he and I are outnumbered in our house 2-1. Every now and then, the need to escape the estrogen stronghold envelopes us, and we get up way too early and make a drive out to one of the gorgeous mountain lakes we think might give us the bounty for the day.

When watching Andy Griffith, on the occasion you see them out fishing, and of course, at the intro to the show, you seldom see another person out on the lake with them. A "secret fishin' hole" devoid of other anglers, just peace and quiet with a man and his son.

Over the last few years, Jimmy (the boy) and I have been on a search for just such a lake to call our own. Our secret. Sure we've been to Evergreen Lake, Antero (prior to draining) and Pine Valley Ranch. Just gorgeous for the scenery, and decent fishing, but on some days, we have been elbow to elbow with other city slickers, not unlike ourselves, looking for an escape out of the city.

A couple of years ago, we started out in Pine. It was a slow morning as far as the fish biting and it was beginning to get crowded, so we decided to move on. I had heard about Roosevelt Lakes, a natural pair of lakes outside Bailey. I knew it was a "short hike" from the parking area, and Jimmy said he was up for it. We have found that if you have to do some hiking prior to your destination, the number of people fishing greatly decreases. At the trailhead, I figured 4 miles, at about a 20 minute pace, we'd be there in just about an hour and a half. Let me just say it was a good thing we started early.

We stepped off about 1015, lost the trail a time or two in the woods, and made plenty of stops for water. By 1230, we were both hungry, and just reaching the 12,000-foot ridge we had to go over, and down... with still another half mile to go.

And it was snowing!

It was a pretty hike, but more uphill than either of us was prepared for, especially carrying our rods, tackle box and lunch. As we were coming down the trail, we could see the mirroring reflection of the water, and heard a loud growl. As we looked up, above the rock wall on the far side of the lake embankment, we saw what we thought was a mountain lion surveying the area, and like a flash, it was gone. We hesitated, but decided we had made it this far, we were darn right going to fish!

The lake itself was clear, cold, and rocky, but you could see the trout swimming right up to the shoreline. We were there for a couple of hours, trying all sorts of lures, flies, worms, and whatever we could, all to no avail. Knowing we had a nice hike back to the parking area, we decided to call it a day.

Peace and Quiet, a commune with nature, yes. Fish jumping onto our rods with ease, not so much.

And despite the long walk, the weather, the sore feet, and lack of success on the water, he didn't complain once. A few days later, he was actually bragging to his friends about the seclusion, the hiking, the snow, and the scenery.

A couple of weeks ago, we thought we would try Jefferson Lake outside Fairplay. The temperature forecast called for Denver to be in the 80s, so we figured a mountain getaway would be just great to cool us off. I had heard from a couple of guides in Conifer that it was a nice little lake, and the fishing was great after ice off. We made the right turn from Highway 285 just past Kenosha Pass, and that's where we really began our journey. At the park entrance, the sign said 8 miles. After 6 miles and about 40 minutes of slushy, snow packed and muddy roads, we were forced to stop. Should we hike it in? We were so close. Nah, we decided that after our previous hike, we weren't quite prepared for such a trek on foot, especially in the snow and unknown terrain. We u-turned and decided to head south to check out Tarryall Reservoir. Another hour's drive later, we had our rods in the water, but that only lasted as long as the wind wasn't gusting through our clothes and the ice on the center of the lake wasn't melting and splintering off into a thousand pieces. Again, we decided to call it a day.

Now, before you start to think that futility and fishing with me and the boy are commonplace, we have, in fact, found a lake that we like to go to up in Summit County. As we prefer, there is a short hike from the parking area, so we have only seldom seen others fishing with us. The view is just amazing, with the scenery of the Continental Divide and Keystone and Breckenridge. The best part is we have never hiked back down at the end of the day empty handed. Some days they bite better than others, but we always have dinner when we leave. Heck, one glorious Saturday, we got there at 6:00 am, and had caught our limit by 8! We were home by noon, and not knowing what to do with our time. (And no, this isn't another one of those "fishing stories"!) Our only problem with our current favorite "secret fishin' hole" is getting there requires transport on I-70. That means we don't go too often in the spring, due to skier traffic, and summer holiday weekends are also pretty busy on that stretch of freeway. Regardless, don't think I'm going to be telling you where it is, now, 'cause like most anglers, we all have our secrets!

I'm sure you are thinking, if I have found just what I was looking for, why do I continue to search?

I believe the saying goes something like, "It's not the destination, but the journey."

You see I work nights at a local hospital, often leaving before or just as Jimmy is getting home from school, and I am asleep when he leaves in the morning. Our male bonding time comes on the weekends, and even then, I have to share those precious moments with all members of the family.

Some trips, Jimmy and I talk of day to day things at home, how school is going, and what merit badges he is working on for Boy Scouts. Other days we trash talk to each other about how many fish we are going to catch, and who will catch the biggest one. There are chats about whether I've seen the latest episode of Brainiac, My Name is Earl or Man Vs Wild, and discussions of future plans for climbing 14ers and going rafting.

On our return trips back home, Jimmy will be sure to tell me what the fish were eating, information he learned while investigating the stomach contents while he was "guttin' 'em up". Either that, or he is catching up on the sleep that he missed getting up so early that morning. Usually the latter.

Recently, my younger daughters have gotten the fishing bug. After my 4 year old received a Barbie fishing rod of her own, Jimmy was out in the back yard, teaching her the proper time to release the thumb switch and maximize how far she can cast.

I value the time we have now, for I know in a few short years, I will not only be competing with friends and movies and neighborhood goings on, but the inevitable girls and dating will take time on the weekends. I hope that the conversations will continue, be they serious or not.

Thankfully, Colorado still has hundreds of lakes we have yet to discover for ourselves, or that we can call our own.

Until our next trip, which can't come soon enough, I have this darn song in my head:

Come on, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,