Knee deep in the north fork of the South Platte River, John Scialdone whips his fly rod back and forth across the water.
With a flick of the wrist, he jerks the rod forward, sweeping the line through the air, landing it in the water. His cast is smooth and deliberate. Each movement carefully measured. Each stroke precise.
It’s like he’s painting a masterpiece.
Scialdone, from Gilbert, Arizona, and his grandson Jake, from Elkview, Pennsylvania, are standing in a stream 10 miles west of Bailey. They met in Colorado the day before for a three-day, guided fly-fishing tour. It’s Jake’s high school graduation present.