My First Time

I was eighteen. A college freshman. A little drunk. We didn’t know what we were doing.

No, no — not like that. My buddies handed me a fly rod and pointed toward a small creek running cold and clear through the southern Rockies.

At some point, more by luck than skill, a trout rose to the fly. I remember the sudden weight, the confusion, and my friends offering advice that was both urgent and quite useless. Somehow I landed it — a wild trout.

That was my first time.

Decades later, I’m still chasing wild trout, especially within their native range.