Riffles and Slicks: College Day

Saturday, September 30, 2017

College Day

Clear Creek is low again. I go upstream and find a buckeye tree. I fill my pockets but their magic brings only one small fish. Better than none. Two young women--college students--are at the rapids. I pass them and strike out on the fisherman's trail.

Down at the riffle and run I tie on yet another new fly. As I prepare to cast I see those young women again. They're downstream having a snack on the big rock overlooking the best hole in the run. So it goes.

When I approach they're polite and friendly. They even express the hope that they haven't negatively impacted my fishing experience. I assure them they haven't.

I cast right under their feet but I don't catch anything. You would think polite young women would bring as much luck as a handful of buckeyes. Maybe they would if they weren't practically sitting right in the best hole.

Two groups of young men--are there no classes today?--have passed by. One group heads up the trail toward the top of the bluff. The other stops to wade in the long pool. Soon they are skipping rocks. Then, as I continue to fish down toward them, they begin to launch big rocks into the pool.

I conclude that the impulse to throw rocks into water that begins at age four is still present in the 18 to 21 year old. As I get closer, they are totally oblivious to my presence and the fact that I'm fishing. Then one of them looks up and finally sees me--or pays attention to me. He calls out, "Catching anything?"

I'm tempted. Yes, I'm sorely tempted to launch into the same lecture I've given Sebastian about the relationship of rock throwing and fishing. I wonder if they would know the meaning of the term "antithetical." But I simply answer, "Yep." He says, "Awesome!" Apparently genuinely happy for me.

Now that I'm there and the pool is trashed, they take their leave. They're talking about women as they wander off into the trees. As I listen I'm embarrassed to have once been their age, so full of bullshit.