At one moment you can be completely happy, thinking life can get no better. I was on the shoreline of a renowned trout creek. The sun was out and it was shirtsleeve weather. The day before I had netted a 23 inch fat rainbow trout. It was a beautiful fish. On its side she carried a plethora of red and silver hues. I was hoping to duplicate yesterday’s experience ten or twenty times. The fish were taking a blue dun fly that was emerging but I was yet to find the fly from my box to mimic the hatch.A fisherman had just appeared across the creek a mere fifty feet downstream. I wonder if he also felt life could not get any better. He was soon to find out, it could. He was a tall young man, blonde, probably quite handsome, physically fit, decked out in matching tan waders and fly vest. His blonde hair curled out beneath his hat framing a distinct jaw line. He stood confident with a half smile that seemed to never leave his face. On his second cast I saw him set the hook. He soon landed a nice fish larger than the fish I had caught the day before. Seeing another fisherman catch fish doesn’t discourage me or cause envy. In contrast it lets me know the fish are biting and I know when I send the right combination of fly, depth, and location, I too will soon be catching fish.
Being fishless for the day the contrast could not have been greater. Here I stood almost old, out of shape over weight, bald, shorter than I use to be, never as tall as this young man, and certainly never that kind of handsome. The contrast was soon going to be greater yet. I had just watched him catch his 11th fish. The way he could make music with the fly rod was truly an art form. The fly line glistened in the sun when the line made a perfect arc during his back cast. There was a rhythm between him and the fly. When he started his cast it was effortless. A simple lifting the rod tip and the fly obediently followed its master’s command into a smooth symmetrical arc. The fly entered the current seamless and natural.My fly could not reach the rift where he was pulling out fish after fish, nor would I have sent my fly there if I could have reached it. There is an etiquette in fly fishing and that would certainly have crossed into the rude uncouth arena.
To get to where he stood took a good mile walk and a bit of effort. She seemed to just appear. Where she had come from I had not observed. But there she was beautiful as he was handsome standing close to the young fisherman. She too was blonde. She wore a white blouse, short blue jean skirt and cowboy boots. I can say her tanned legs fit the skirt and boots nicely. Muffled talked came from both his and her lips, a giggle from both could be heard coming across the water. After much striving for his attention she stretched onto her tip toes with arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper something into his ear. A sound of delightful pleasure came from his lips and I could not tell if it was from him setting the hook on fish number 12 or in response to her words. Her distracting presence seemed to only be affecting me because he was flawless in the playing and netting of the fish as she hung onto him through the whole process. Upon releasing the fish the man seemed to now have a new mission. He stowed away his gear and with a big smile pasted on his face they walked down the trail. I wondered who was that guy anyway? Who is it that can catch fish like that? Who is it that has a beauty appear and drag him off to who knows where? This was something I had never seen before. Was this like the mermaid who met the sailor lost at sea? I knew it wasn’t a dream because if it was a dream I wouldn’t have been watching. All I know the smile on that young man’s face came from fishing plus something and that something was not hard to imagine.
That night back at camp I reflected on the oddity of the two lovers and watching her seduce the young fisherman. I have always heard that fly fisherman are sexy, after seeing that I am a believer. And, even though I am almost old I am sticking with fly fishing who knows what could happen. Regardless, I smiled knowing somewhere there was a young fly fisherman who maybe had the two best days ever….all in one. Now that makes a great fish story.