Then Ethan shows up again, all smiles and bubbling excitement about learning to fish, and it all vanishes.
“Listen, I know you think I’m city folk and maybe this won’t be something I like, but I read up about it, and I’m excited.”
Ethan isn’t lying. You can’t fake his enthusiasm.
“You read up about fly-fishing? Really? What did you learn?”
A pink flush floods his cheeks as he clears his throat. “Uh, well, it’s called fly-fishing because you fish with flies. That’s mostly it. Oh, and it looks hard.”
I can’t stop the half-grin from forming on my face.
“You’re right on both counts.” Tipping my chin at his horse, I ask. “You remember how to mount and what to do?”
“Of course.”
He stuffs a boot in the stirrup, pulls himself up, and throws his leg over on the first try. The horse prances a few steps to the side. Ethan grips the reins and whispers to the horse.
He turns to me, clearly pleased with himself, and I am too. I mount my horse and, with a click of my tongue, we start our ride up to my favorite part of the creek.
Our rideto the fishing spot was peaceful.
Ethan took photos, but he mostly remained quiet except for the odd question. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet either.Something definitely shifted with us since we talked into the late night after our burger outing.
After leading the horses to the creek for a drink, we tie them away from the shore and carry all the gear down to the river’s edge. Ethan stands still, staring off down the creek, and I wonder if he shares my feelings about it.
“Snow Creek starts in the mountains with the spring thaw. The creek goes on for miles. There are skinny parts and wider parts closer to where other rivers meet it, but no matter what part of the river you’re at, it always has something to offer.” Ethan nods and still looks over the water, and I assemble our gear. “Water is life. In the deeper pools, we find fish. In the marshier places, it’s filled with tadpoles and frogs. There’s grass and shelter for ducks and birds. Large animals drink and bathe in it. Sometimes people drink it. It’s just…it’s like…”
“A never-ending gift. A provider,” Ethan supplies and turns to face me. “Often taken for granted. Am I close?”
Swallowing at how darn accurate he is, I nod. “Yeah.”
A fish jumps in the middle of the pool, and Ethan spins back only to catch the circles it left behind in the water.
“Oh my god, was that a fish, Colt!?”
“It was, and it’s a good sign. They’re hungry.” I hand him a rod and quickly pick a fly that the trout have always loved here. “I don’t expect you to learn how to tie knots today, so I’ll do that part for you. The fish always love this fly here in the spring.”
Ethan watches closely as I wrap the end of the leader and secure the fly with a clinch knot. Pulling my cutting tool from my vest, I snip off the excess and shove the waste piece of line into my pocket.
“Wow. I’m already impressed,” Ethan gushes as I finish the task with surgical efficiency.
“I’ve been doing this for a long time. It takes practice.”
After tying a fly to my line, I set it aside and explain casting to Ethan. “I think for you, it would be easier to use a bow and arrow technique.” I pinch the line and pull back until the rod tip bends. “If you let the line go with the bent rod, it will spring out in front of you.”
I let the line go, and the fly travels out in front of me. “Then you bring it back by pulling on the line here, and you can either keep casting like that, or you can do a side cast like this.”
After showing him how to retrieve the line, I cast to the side a few times while Ethan watches. “The timing can be tricky when you bring it from the back to the front. I used to say a phrase in my head to help with that when I was just learning.”
“So a phrase that’s kind of the perfect wait time, then?”
“Exactly. I would say, ‘I love redheads,’ then bring my arm forward. Four beats should be the sweet spot.”
Ethan snickers. “Do you? Love redheads, I mean?”
“I don’t really care about someone’s hair, but these days I’m partial to ranch greenhorns.” I give Ethan a second to register my confession and carry on, “But that doesn’t really roll off your tongue.”
“It sure doesn’t.” He watches as I cast a few more times and talk him through pulling back the line. A trout jumps at the fly once but misses, and Ethan’s excitement is unmeasured.
