The Fish Within

Eight

They stood in the water, stood for hours or so it seemed, but she could tell by the sun high in the sky that it hadn't been that long.  Her feet were slammed into high water boots, and she didn't move letting the rushing stream swirl all about her. 

She broke the silence first.  "What do you love so much about all this?"

Kevin lifted one wader than the other.  He was dressed in similar garb as she was except his was four or five sizes bigger and taller and in beige.  "It's the tying of the flies.  It all comes full circle, you know?  From your own hands, you are making something that can catch something.  That's very satisfying." 

He turned back around, his back to hers.  They stood in a diagonal line. 

"I get that.  I don't make anything.  I bring someone's words to life, someone else's characters, nothing of my own."

He didn't turn around.  "Were you always in this line of work?"

She laughed.  "No, not hardly.  I waited tables, cashier, dishwasher, tour guide, ride controller at a theme park or two or three, whatever I could get with flexible hours that paid some bills."

He grunted.  He pulled back on his line a bit.  "You know you don't have to make your own flies.  You can buy them.  Fly shops all around.  I have a few for sale in my own shop.  It's a craft.  Something to be created.  Something that fits your location.  The next part is the presentation.  The fly rod has to be properly tied, with the right amount of tension."

She sighed.  She looked over her shoulder back at the shore.  "There's more to this than I thought."

"A basic fly line uses five kinds of knots."

"Oh, I did read about those.  Arbor knot attaches to the back of the reel, nail knot attaches fly line to backing, nail knot or loop to loop to attach tapered leader to fly line, double surgeons knot or blood knot to attach tippet to the leader, and an improved clinch knot to attach the flies."

Kevin twisted around and pulled the sunglasses off his face.  The mirrored lenses reflected in his eyes.  He squinted and raised an eyebrow.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders.  "What?  I'm good at memorizing."

"Yeah, I got that."

She pulled up on her line.  The fishing rod was loose in her hands. 

"Part of good presentation is the cast and the drift.  Some people take their whole lives to get it right.  But it's what gets your fly in the water."

She pulled back on the line and swung it to one side.  She shook her head.  Her fly was floating within inches of her legs.

Kevin reeled in his line.  He waddled, and moved slow against the slimy rocks, in the waist high water until he had reached the slender film star.

He reached out and put his arms around her waist.  He helped her reel in her line.  He whispered in her now near sunburned ears, "Casting is the pure motion to put your fly in the water."

She whispered back, "I read about that, too.  There are three kinds of casts to learn first: overhead, roll and reach.  Once you get those down, then the next casts to try are:  pitch, flip, and skip."

"You got that right.  Very good.  We're going to go with the overhead.  It's one of the easier ones.  So after you cast, we want the water's current and the motion you make casting to create a drift.  That's what convinces a trout to bite.  Your fly has to mimic live bait, living prey, so the fish notice and go after it.  Plus you have to watch out for the weather, and read the current.  So no splashing.  And no speaking loudly.  We're sneaking up on the fish."

She gulped.  Felt his strong embrace as he helped her lift the fishing rod and cast one of his hand made flies in the water. 

He didn't let go.   They held onto the fishing rod together.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Now we hear the quiet.  Enjoy the view.  Settle our minds.  Breathe.  And wait."