CUTBANK DO THE MATH hit it hard, fishing every moment with intent and antici-pation, and fired off some loops to be proud of. “It isn’t some tonic I drink every day, but I do feel that a good, dry gin martini or two fingers of a single malt helps,” Miles says, but he is careful to speak only for himself—he knows generalizations and prescrip-tions for how to live a long life are, in some ways, pointless. He’s been lucky. A feisty, charismatic and caring wife 24 years his junior has certainly helped, as has genetic good fortune and a general attitude and philosophy about what entails a life well-lived. “I love to live,” Miles says in the most matter-of-fact way. His eyes are bright and twinkle with opti-mism and what I interpret to be a gracious and resigned type of gratitude. When he speaks to me, or anyone, his attention is utterly undivided. He is present in a way I have always envied. “I always have a purpose,” he continues, “be it as simple as a to-do list. I willingly ac-cept all forms of challenge and I have a really hard time accepting defeat. The past cannot be changed, so I al-ways look forward and try to see all that lies before me through a lens of purpose and profound positivity.” ROSS MILES’ CENTURY ON THE WATER Along the way he’s met some intriguing charac-ters. One of them was Duke Kahanamoku, legendary Hawaiian Oly mpian and father of modern surfing, who was a close childhood friend of Miles’ father. Later in life, when Kahanamoku visited the Miles home in Santa Cruz, he always insisted on eating Miles’ moth-er’s homemade ravioli. During World War II, Miles crossed paths with then-lieutenant Richard Nixon, who tasked Miles with procuring 40 pounds of ground beef so “his boys” could enjoy burgers deep in the hu-mid South Pacific. In another chance encounter over breakfast on the remote island of Munda, a lean, older pilot in a distinctive blue jumper appeared and eventu-ally introduced himself as Charles Lindbergh. They agreed to have dinner after Lindbergh completed a test flight, but Miles was deployed unexpectedly and missed their date. So he has stories to tell, but he doesn’t seem to dwell on them. The morning we fished the Rogue, Susie confided that Miles had been getting his gear together for two days and had set his “mental alarm clock” extra early on game day because he was so excited to fish. He RIGHT Despite their age difference, the Miles’ marriage is a beautiful reminder of what the institution can be. After 44 years together they are as strong as ever—they’ve traveled the world and still get out fishing. Susie likes to refer to Ross’ life before her as “B.S.”—Before Susie. Photo: Ken Morrish 100 THE FLYFISH JOURNAL
The Flyfish Journal Volume 13, Issue 2: Page 100
