push the boat into the river. Rowing a drift boat is a bit new to both Jim and Henry; although a season of trips on Idaho’s Clearwater have helped Jim hone his skills. Henry doesn’t have the experience Jim has, but he is eager to learn, even through failure. Henry’s determination has him at the oars every moment Jim has the courage to let him.
As we drift down river, Henry throws relaxed, methodical strokes that push us from the shadows into the warmth of the sun. Slowly we drift beyond the shade onto the sunny shore. I kick my feet up to feel the sun seeping into my puffy down jacket. Soon, my eyes are closed. It’s funny how quickly we can forget past discomforts in the presence of ease and relaxation. It reminds me of how mountaineers tramp for days through grueling conditions, suffering to no end; but the moment they are back in town, sipping a cold beer, they forget discomforts of the past. After a week of domestic life they already yearn for more. I open my eyes and snap back to the present moment. Jim and Henry are upstream swinging flies, and I’m here napping in the boat. Damn. How do I expect to catch anything if my fly isn’t even in the water! I gather my rod and hop out of the boat. I push my legs through the frigid water, wading out into the river tentatively. I cast and cast… more practicing than real fishing.