“Look at that!” He said. My ten year old son turned around and smiled with pride. We’d been talking about fishing streamers next to structure for weeks.
I nodded with approval, trying to be supportive. Then I leaned in close to his ear, bending down so he could hear me over the competing current. We stood on a gravel bar, just to the side of a wide and rough section of whitewater — not an ideal place to race a streamer broadside across the river.
Joey launched and retrieved two more casts as I explained the speed lead . . .