Practice (Ezzy's Education: Part 17), by Garrett Murch
Link Conary stood next to Ezzy on the dock where she had cast her first fly with her father. They overlooked a small, placid pond surrounded by hills of Maples on fire with foliage, separated in places by brief stands of conifers.
Ending her gaze over the water, Ezzy asked Link, “Are you ready to learn the game plan?” “I sure am.”
“Good. It’s simple. Listen to everything I say and follow instructions.” She laughed.
“Ten-four.” There’s no need to be nervous. His entire right arm, holding up the almostweightless fly rod owned by Ezzy’s father, shook.
“You’re close.”
Huh? “What do you mean, ‘I’m close?’” “It’s ten-two.”
“What’s ten-two?” Is she messing with me?
“You really need to watch the movie.” Ezzy made the motion of casting a fly. “What movie?”
“A River Runs Through It, of course. In the movie, the father taught his boys casting a fly is an art that is performed on a four-count rhythm between ten o’clock and two o’clock.” She made the casting motion again, and Link could see she meant the fly rod was like the hour hand on a clock.
“Ah.” Link was blown away by Ezzy’s confidence, which leapt like a salmon out of her sage-colored waders. His arm shook less.
“Watch what I do, then do the same thing,” Ezzy said.
“Sounds good.”
Ezzy executed the basic casting technique in slow motion, bringing her forearm back, then forward. “Watch where the tip of my rod is pointing at the end of each forward motion and each backward motion. Think of the rod as the hour hand on a clock.”
“I got that already,” Link said. Watching Ezzy, he thought she was not moving her rod exactly from ten o’clock to two o’clock. After she repeated the motion several times, he said, “It looks like you’re going more from eleven to one than from ten to two.”
Ezzy laughed. “That’s true, actually.” She made a big smile. “That’s how I do it now, about eleven o’clock to one o’clock. Maybe you’ll get to that point someday, but today you’re going from ten o’clock to two o’clock.”
“Ten-four,” Link said with a smirk, his shaking nearly gone.
”You think you’re funny, huh?” Ezzy laughed and they both laughed, not making much sound.
Ezzy watched him practice the casting motion a few times. “Not bad,” she said. “Now we’re going to start casting the fly line.”
“You mean casting the fly, right?”
“No, I don’t mean casting the fly. I meant what I said: casting the fly line. Remember our game plan?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll follow instructions.”
“The fly just goes along for the ride with the line and the leader,” Ezzy said. “Watch. You’ll see what I mean.” She pulled line from her reel.
“You use rubber fishing line?”
Ezzy looked at him in a way that made Link think he was about to get a scolding. He didn’t mind—at all. She said, “It’s not rubber, Lincoln. Can I call you Lincoln?”
“Sure. My mother sometimes does.”
“I’ll stick with Link. Anyway, Link, fly lines are coated with polyvinyl chloride. It’s chemistry. It makes the line slippery so it slides right through the guides—those rings you see up and down the fly rod—so you can make long, smooth casts.”
“Very cool.”
“Now watch.” Ezzy twitched her rod, magically whipping the fly line into the air. She sent the line forward, then backward, the line she was throwing getting longer and longer with each motion. “See how it’s really the line that is cast?” On her last forward motion, she stopped and let the tip of her rod drop along with the fly and the line, gently onto the water.
“Very nice!” Link said. “You make it look easier than the guys in the commercials.”
“Thanks.” There was a splash of water. Ezzy lifted her rod tip, which bent over when she connected with a fish. “Whoops!” She giggled. “I didn’t mean to hook one. I swear I was only trying to show you how to cast. Sorry.”
Her fly rod bent in a way Link had never seen his regular fishing rods bend. “No problem at all!” he said, his arm not shaking at all. “Is it a good one?”
“It’s decent. Well, I guess you can learn how to net a fish today.”
“You don’t expect me to catch my own fish today?” Link asked, feeling a little hurt. Wait, is that what she was implying?
“Just grab the net off the back of my vest.” He did as she said.
As Ezzy reeled the fish in closer to them, she said, “Now dip the net all the way into the water.
I’ll steer the fish over to you, or at least I’ll try to. When the fish swims over the net, lift it up.”
Link lifted the net when the fish was above it. “Holy cow! Nice brook trout!”
“My gosh, calm down, Link. It’s not that big. Thirteen or fourteen inches long.”
“I’ve never caught one that big fishing with my dad. I bet it will taste so good. I love brook trout fried in butter on cast iron.” He noticed Ezzy’s lack of reaction.
“We’re not killing this fish. We’re putting it back.”
”Oh, you do the catch and release thing?”
“I do on this pond. Most places, really. Quick, hand me the net. Watch how I remove the hook without harming the trout.”
Link handed Ezzy the net and watched. “I can’t see what you’re doing. The fish and your fingers are still in the water.”
Released, the fish swung its tail, splashing water on Ezzy’s face: the odd way fish thank their captors for liberating them. “I didn’t mean for a trout to take that fly,” she said.
“What fly is it?”
“A Stimulator. A size fourteen Royal Stimulator, to be precise.”
“Royal, huh? Does that mean Lucinda would like it?” Link grinned.
“Why? Because she thinks she’s royalty?” Ezzy scowled.
“Yeah.”
“You just ruined that fly for me. Geez.” Ezzy appeared genuinely despondent.
“I’m sorry, I was—I was just trying to be funny.”
“Nothing about Lucinda Barron is funny,” Ezzy said. “No more talking politics while fishing, okay?”
“You’re the boss.”
“Good answer. Now it’s time for you to try casting.” “I’m ready.”
“Pull a bunch of line off the reel before you start.”
With twenty feet of line pulled off the reel, Link lifted the rod and brought it behind him to the two o’clock angle, then he moved it forward, too far forward and the fly line barely moved. He looked at Ezzy and shrugged his shoulders. Ezzy laughed and Link could tell her laugh did not include a drop of mean-spiritedness. “This may take a while,” she said.
Two hours later, sunset approached fast. Link had made hundreds of casts back and forth, and with the help of Ezzy’s instruction, he’d made adjustments that fine-tuned his cast. “You’re not doing too bad for your first time,” Ezzy said.
How generous of her. Does she like me or not? Link’s shoulder had grown tired from all the casting. Ezzy said once he started casting with the proper technique, his shoulder would stop getting tired. He had not gotten a single strike from a trout, as most of his casts ended with the line splashing the water or tangled. He was having fun but felt defeated. How do people make this look easy?
“Had enough for today?” Ezzy asked. “There’s not much daylight left.”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m not a natural at this.” Shoot. I sound like I’m fishing for a compliment.
“It takes practice. Lots and lots of practice.”
“Gotcha.”
“Well let’s head back to the Jeep,” Ezzy said. “I’m sure you’ve got homework. I’ve got plenty.”
“You don’t want to cast some more? This whole time you only made that one cast.” “It’s okay. I was playing instructor today.”
”Are you sure?” Link felt guilty. She loves fly fishing so much, but resisted it today to teach me?
Maybe she does like me.
“I’m sure. I’ll get lots of fishing in this weekend with my Dad. We head to camp and fish pretty much every weekend in the fall.”
“That’s so awesome.”
“Let’s get up to the Jeep.”
“Ten-two.”
“Ha!” Ezzy laughed, maybe louder than she intended.