Edward S. Pinkston

Edward S. Pinkston, 65, of Asheville, NC, died December 25th, 2014. Born October 4th, 1949, he was the son of Faye L. Pinkston and of the late Edward S. Pinkston, Sr. He was also preceded in death by a brother, Joseph Pinkston. He is survived by his wife, Karen H. Pinkston; daughters, Kristina and Ivory Pinkston; son, Edward S. Pinkston, III; three grandchildren; and brothers Ralph and Michael Pinkston. He was the Vice President of Golf Associates Scorecard Co. of Asheville, NC. QUOTE from Fly Fishing Team USA "Eddie Pinkston grew up in Asheville, NC in the heart of some of the best trout fishing in the southeast. At the age of 17 he was guiding fly fishermen for the local Orvis dealership. A year later when he was only 18, Eddie won the western North Carolina Big Trout Contest. First prize was an Orvis Battenkill bamboo rod and Hardy reel – a pretty good outfit for a kid in those days. In 1976 Eddie won a third place bronze pin in the Annual Field & Stream fly fishing contest. The next year he spent the entire summer camped on the Letort Spring Run in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. His interest in competitive fishing was fired upon viewing the Jackson Hole World Championship on television. Entering the first OLN Fly Fishing Masters, Eddie won first place in the Southeast Division and competed in the finals on Depuys Creek in Montana. Over the years he has fished most of the great trout rivers in the U.S., along the Chimehuin, Malleo, Traful and Alumine in Argentina. He was selected to be a member of the 2005 Fly Fishing Team USA after competing in the Bend, Oregon Trials. Eddie's goal was to help bring the team to the forefront of international competitions." QUOTE from Fly Fishing The Harriman Ranch by John McDaniel "One of the great Eddie Pinkston stories was set in the eastern United States. Eddie lives in North Carolina. A Pennsylvania angler called him and told him there was an 'impossible' brown trout that none of the fine anglers that fished the legendary spring creeks in the south-central part of the state had been able to hook. Eddie hung up the phone, threw his gear in his vehicle and drove to Pennsylvania. I doubt if General Lee and his gallant boys were more intense when they made their fateful march north. After the long road-trip, Eddie got out of the car and immediately caught that 'impossible' fish." Eddie had many hobbies. He was an avid reader and loved UNC football and basketball. He was a world-class fly fisherman. One of his greatest joys was the time spent each summer fly fishing the Henry's Fork tributary of the Snake River in eastern Idaho with his friends from all parts of the United states. As in any sport, there is a bond between fishermen, mutual respect for their skills, and recognition that each one has a gift that is acknowledged by their peers. Eddie's legacy is best summarized by his good friend, Dave Smith, when he learned of Eddie's illness, penned the following: "I told you once that I met three Presidents during my days in D.C. Short encounters to be sure, but the kind that leave an impression nonetheless. Now my grandchildren are starting to ask about those signed photos on the wall and I fill them in a little. The next time they come by there will be a picture of you up there beside Carter, Reagan and H.W. Bush, and when they ask, 'Who's that," I'll tell them about Eddie Pinkston – a lot. I'll tell them about that old hat of yours and how you used to amble the bank, mile after mile, rail thin and mostly legs, looking for noses. I'll tell them about how you never left a rising fish, even if you had to trail it for hours, until you caught it or it quit, except for that one time on the upper ranch when you uncharacteristically walked away from one and I caught it, and how genuinely pleased you were for me. And how we'd find those bank feeders on river right all the way down to the telephone pole. And how one night I waited for you at the mailbox well after dark, thinking you were lost or drowned and finally heard you walking out, howling at the coyotes. I'll tell them how you could name every bug on the river, right back to the Latin, and describe every pattern to emulate them down to the size and color of materials, and how they might vary slightly from their cousins back east. And how I met you on the Metolious to get a little practice in before the try-outs for the US Fly Fishing Team, and how proud of you I was that you made it. And how I never really believed that Karen was a Sissy Spacek look-alike until I met her on that trip and found that she really did, only prettier. I'll tell them that sometimes I would just stop fishing and watch you – angled at the waist, elbow tight in, fluid stroke, nothing wasted, perfect loops time after time, talking to the fish, coaxing it home like it was a lost puppy. And how at such moments I witnessed what you were born to do, saw your gift and felt privileged by the sight, knowing I could admire but never emulate. Yes, I will tell them how you were catching state record fish in your teens, how you worked on your craft and studied it with some of the legends of the art, how you became a little famous yourself, as much as such things are possible in the world of fly fishing. But there is more to say. I'll tell them how much you loved and admired your father, how you would tell me stories about your ancestors and their accomplishments, how much you loved your children and ached for their troubles and took joy in their successes, and what a blessing your grandson was. I'll tell them that you never forgot the name of a friend, or someone who impressed you along the way. That you had crystal clear recall of a broader range of arcane knowledge than anyone I know. And if they ask me why I think it is important for them to know about you, I'll tell them that each of us is lucky if we meet only a handful of people who make our lives better just by knowing of them. And I'll tell them that if they make a point of going to special places they are likely to meet some of those special people. It happened to me when I met you. I'll miss you, Eddie Pinkston, but I'll never forget you." And neither will his family and friends. Rest in peace along the still waters of your favorite stream. A memorial will be held at a later date in the spring at Davidson River.