“Oh my god, Colt! Did you see that? I should take photos.” He scrambles to get his phone from the pocket on his vest, then pauses. “Is it okay if I just take photos before trying? Some with you in it?”
“Yes, of course. That’s why you’re here.”
I don’t mind him taking photos while I fish. Fishing is one of those activities that lets me just tune out the world, kind of like rock skipping. It’s hard to tune out Ethan, though. In the quiet of nature, his breathy exclamations drag my attention back to him. It’s not a distraction, though. More like an enhancement.
A tug on my line jolts me back from staring at him in his element, and a trout breaks the surface. Ethan exclaims like an excited toddler as he points the phone toward the fish and records the catch. The fish jumps and fights as I pull in the line, and once close enough, I unclip the net from my vest and scoop up the fish.
“Crap, I’m gonna have a wet foot. We should have had hip waders or rubber boots on.” I gently take the fish in my hand and explain to Ethan about the hook. “They might be small, but they still hurt when they get stuck in the meat of your finger or thumb.”
The fish lies in my hand. It’s a decent size, and Ethan takes about six dozen photos. “I’m gonna let him go.” Stepping to where I can reach deeper water with my outstretched hand, I lower the fish into the river. With a splash of its tail, it takes off, and I straighten up.
“I need to try this, Colt. I want to catch a fish.” Ethan nods, convinced because he said it would happen, so there’s no other outcome. I hope he’s right.
After switching us both into rubber boots and setting my wet cowboy boot in the sun to dry, it’s clear Ethan isn’t a natural at casting. His eyebrows scrunch together, and I think he might be one more cast away from throwing the rod down the river.
“Hey,” I gently call to get his attention. When he looks my way, the tightness in my chest surprises me, and I almost forget what I was going to say. “Casting doesn’t come easy for everyone, but I can show you a different way to fish that might work.”
“Sure. I guess I might have gotten ahead of things. This is harder than it looks.”
“It is. Give yourself grace. It’s a very technical skill.” After setting my rod down safely out of the way, I wade over to Ethan. “You don’thaveto do the back cast if you have a floating fly.” After pulling in the line, I quickly cut the other fly off and place it in a small container in one of my vest pockets. In another container, I pop the lid and show the flies to Ethan. “Pick one. Whichever one you want.”
“This is so Pretty Woman-ish, Colt. Holding open a box and telling me to pick whatever I want.” He wiggles his eyebrows over the lid, and I shake my head with a smile. “That black one with the shiny wings looks cool. Let’s try that.” When he leans closer, I snap the box shut.
“Colt…” His body shakes with laughter. “Good one.”
“It’s a good movie.” I shrug and switch the reel on his rod to one filled with a floating line. I add a leader, pluck the fly he chose out of the box, and tie it on before returning the rod to him.
“You know…until now, I didn’t think fishing could be a turn on.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhmm.”
“Well, you still need to learn how to do this, so pay attention.”
Ethan stands straight, a serious face on. “You got it.”
“This line and fly floats. You just kind of toss it out a way, then use your hand to bring it back.”
“So, a drag it across the water kind of thing?”
“Yeah. You ready to try?”
Ethan nods, and after I’m out of his way, he wades to a shallow spot that brings him closer to the deeper pool where the fish have jumped. He’s focused on his task, and before I retrieve my rod, I let my mind wander and wonder what it would be like to have someone enjoy this with me all the time.
The people who pay me aren’t the same. They’re usually passionate about fishing, but they don’t share…well, me. What might that feel like to be here with someone I care about and maybe have breakfast with? Would fishing be more joyful as a result?
“Colt!” Ethan’s cry of surprise, accompanied by the splashing of a fish, pulls me from my musings. “What do I do? You didn’t tell me what to do if I actually got one!”
“Oh, shit.” I laugh and take a few steps over to Ethan. “Take a step closer to the shore, then raise the hand with the rod in the air.”
Ethan takes a step, and the fish jumps. His rod dips low before the trout breaks the surface again, flashing its body in the late morning sun before splashing into the water again. Ethan laughs. It’s so joyful and uninhibited that it steals my breath.
“You’re doing great. Just raise your arm, and it will come to you. There’s only so much line out.” Unclipping the net from my vest, I step closer and gently adjust his arm higher. “He’s close. Just keep your arm up, and I’ll net him.”
Ethan holds his breath as the trout shows itself, tired from the fighting, and I scoop it into the net.
“Let’s get closer to the shore.”
