Day 58: Slide Inn (rest day #1)
7/23
Vicki was so excited to see her daughter this morning that she didn’t even wait for her to get out of her tent to take a photo.

Aaron and I weren’t safe from this affection either.


When we finally got out of our tents a breakfast of brisket, potato, and egg tacos were waiting for us. Bless RB.

After eating we all went up to get our fishing licenses. As far as I can tell all of the fishing around here is strictly catch and release. A large portion of the license fee also went to conservation of the area. I like the environmental ethics of this place.
I was very excited to try fly fishing because I’ve been shopping around for a sport to do as an old person. Most choose golf but, for me, that’s out of the question. A golf course is an atrocious waste of fresh water, the fashion is horrible, and I got really sunburnt one time on a golf course when I was seven. Fly fishing, or at least my idea of fly fishing, is far more noble. Your field of play is a naturally occurring river, it induces serenity rather than rage, and you interact with wildlife. This hobby would also have the added benefit of providing me with a food source if and when civilization collapses.
The only problem with my grand design is that I’m not that good at fly fishing. Lila on the other hand caught four fish right off the bat. Sprezzatura.

Observing my incompetence from afar, RB stepped in to coach me. He explained that, really, your aim is to trick the fish into thinking that your fly is a tasty insect. You’d think it would be easy to trick a fish but you’d be wrong. In order to mimic an aquatic macroinvertebrate it is imperative that you allow your fly to float naturally down the river. To do this one must make sure that the fly floats before the line and that there is sufficient tension on the line to prevent it from dragging the fly under. I tried my best to follow RB’s instruction but I still kept coming up fishless.

While we were fishing, Aaron did the unthinkable: he came through on his promise to leave us. I stumbled through the current and slick rocks to give him a hug goodbye.
While most of the time I regarded him as an affable tag along, it wasn’t until the last week and a half that I fully welcomed him in my heart to our expedition as an honorary Thunder Thigh.

You were a chaotic and lovable presence on our trip and your absence will be felt. I’ll truly miss having you around.
After some more fishing we had lunch and then a casting lesson from the Slide Inn staff. They thought it best for us to master our casting on land before taking it out to the river. Even though it was on the grass Lila continued to catch everything: weeds, roots, trees. The girl is a natural.
After the lesson we retired to our cabin to take a nap and play on our phones.
The casting lesson marinated in our slumbering minds. When we awoke we were well rested and educated enough to hit the fishing hole again.
With a little more instruction from RB I finally got the motion of casting down. As soon as the line was fully extended downstream, I would lift all but the leader line out of the water and, with a flick of my wrist, direct the fly to a seam in the current of my choosing. Sprezzatura.

I still wasn’t catching anything but I had the motion down. I was able to watch the fly gently float down the river and mend the line so that it didn’t get dragged under. It was an intensely meditative experience to observe the flow of the river over and over again as the fly floated downstream.
I’m not entirely sure how much time had passed when I finally felt a tug on the line.
“Okay, Izzy, this is the moment you’ve been training for.” I kept my cool and my rod pointed upward as I slowly reeled in my catch. “Don’t fuck up, don't fuck up, don’t fuck up.”
I didn’t fuck up.
I drew my catch from the river with style, grace, and sprezzatura. She was a magnificent, 5 inch trout.
After a bit more fishing we all retired to our cabin where RB made a dinner of macaroni, salad, and, of course, brisket. I had a few glasses of the montepulciano d’abruzzo that Vicki bought and fell asleep in a warm bed full of food and wine.
Sprezzatura.
