Water billowing around his calves, Jeff Flaker carefully wades out over mossy rocks into deeper water. He hunkers down, gently pulls back on his line and then releases it, slinging the amber braid and the trailing elk-hair hopper across the current, dropping it precisely at the head of the pool. The babbling brook seems to fade to silence as I watch his fly drift downstream with anticipation. Then, the surface erupts, the rod bows, adrenaline rushes and a smile cracks.

“This is going to be a good day,” proclaims Jeff, raising his arm to draw in the fish.