I had a similar experience with an older gentlemen who lived at Tucker Shoal on White River. We would run across each other a couple of times a year, enough to know each other but not quite on a first name basis. This went on for about ten years, great guy who loved the river and fished almost daily. The last time we chatted he could no longer wade and had to be content sitting in his folding chair. The next year his house was dark and a for sale sign faced the river. I always thought, hoped a could spend my last years doing as well.