i went for a walk along the river. something i haven’t done much the past months. hiking and tendonitis and all that. the river is really low. i saw lots of kids out swimming and playing. the raft tours have also gotten smaller. as in not as many people in the raft and numerous sections where guides have to get out and give the raft a helpful push to free it from a just barely submerged rock/boulder. the tubers don’t really have that problem.
on the plus side, the trout are easily seen in the water. look for the shadow.
i’ve often stopped on the several bridges that cross the river in the hopes that i would catch a glimpse of one or more fish. it has never happened. until today. as i was walking up to the bridge there was a young man with a fly fishing pole on the bank putting on his socks and another under the bridge, i assumed fishing. in the middle of the bridge was a younger fellow, 10 maybe 11, on a bicycle. not your normal kid bike. this was a cervélo kids bike. i’d no idea they made such a thing. and the kid was wearing the racing garb to match. he was up there yelling about how there were several big ones and trying to tell the other two where to look. interested, i stopped to see. as did another fellow with an aussie accent. sure enough, there were probably 5 or 6 fish within sight. “see! i wasn’t cranking you!” he said as the kid under the bridge finally made his way up to confirm. “i’ve got to finish my run,” said the aussie as he jogged away. the young cyclist and novice fly fisherkid were then trying to direct the kid on the bank where to cast the fly. the fish were not interested in the least. according to the fisherkid that was on the bridge, the largest was a brown trout. the others were rainbow trout. the boy from the bank wandered up on to the bridge to see the fish.
i was accepted as part of the group, if only for a few minutes, as we tracked the fish together. we spoke minimally. “there it is, in the weeds.” “yep. look how big it is.” “gotta be at least 2 feet.” “the rainbows are the smaller ones.” i watched the brown trout swim upstream out of sight and then headed on my way. just as i was exiting the bridge, i heard “hey, get your fat ass out of their way,” from one of the two older kids, directed at which other kid, i’ve no idea. a jolly, adult male voice, “he’s not fat. he hardly has any meat on him.”
i chuckled.
within seconds, an older couple on bikes passed me.
i suppose they had no interest in seeing fish in water.