Prentice had been anxiously waiting for the chance to wade the Wabigan for the first time since opening day. When he was younger, he would have stepped into the fast water and easily maneuvered around the boulders in the streambed, unencumbered by either a wading staff or any sense of mortality. These days, however, at least one knee is growing less enthusiastic about wading. What’s more the offending knee is gaining the support of several other body parts.
Prentice stepped cautiously into the water using his wading staff (a re-purposed ski pole) to steady him. Gaining confidence, he moved into the current and cautiously moved into position beside his favorite run. A few introductory casts and he was back in the groove, landing his fly into the feeding lane with both finesse and anticipation. Then he rotated slightly to change his casting angle. His knee objected to the move and the current took advantage of Prentice’s momentary imbalance to topple him.
In the process of trying to breathe while re-gaining his footing, Prentice dropped his beloved fly rod. The stream quickly claimed it, stuffing it somewhere into the rocks and roots in the depths of his favorite run. His faithful companion of many years was gone. Largefonte soon recovered from near hypothermia, but took longer to recover from the taunts and ridicule of his fellow members of CHAOS.
Over the next few weeks, Prentice spent time getting to know another rod and reel. The feel of the 'new' rod was different as he expected it would be. It didn’t have the same response as his old favorite rod, but he gained appreciation for it as the summer wore on.
All summer long, CHAOS members watched for Prentice’s rig every time they visited that stretch of the Wabigan. By the end of the trout season, there had been no sign of his gear. At one of the late season forays to Doc and Nolan’s cabin, the inescapable demise of Prentice’s gear became a topic of discussion.
“You know, being in the river that long, the reel would be dented and the paint would be chipped off.” Ivan said, trying to help Prentice cope with the practicality of his loss.
“I would imagine the gears would grind, too, from all the sand deposited in them”, Nolan added. Doc chimed in by commenting on the likely damage to the rod’s finish and bent guides. Prentice thought for a few moments, carefully weighing their words. Then he smiled broadly with renewed energy.
“You know, you fellas are right!” He said. “Why, that cold water would preserve that rod just like the day I lost it! We’ll look for it again in the spring.”
Royal Dun
