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A few weeks ago, my wife and I went to Highlands, NC, for our wedding anniversary. After being spoiled at a spa and eating a nice dinner, we did the next logical thing: fish. That morning, as we left our hotel and headed for the river, the thermometer read 22 degrees. These were not ideal conditions, but when you have children, any conditions with a babysitter secured are good.

The river access point was relatively empty except for a few trucks. On the tailgate of one truck was a spinning rod belonging to a man lacing up camouflage hunting boots (let’s call him Camo Man). My wife and I put on our insulation and nice waders, set up our expensive fly rods, and tied tiny flies to the end of our line with frozen fingers.

Camo Man walked past without saying hello. I assumed he was thinking, “Those fly fishers don’t say hello to anyone.” As we finished, another fly fisherman pulled into the parking lot, parked by us, and got ready without responding to our “Good morning.” Camo Man may be onto something.

We walked down the frosty trail to a large pool. Surprisingly, no one was there, and hundreds of trout were stacked up along the slow-moving water. We quickly began to fish and caught a couple. As cold as it was, the fish were not in the mood to eat. Occasionally, though, one would give us some action.

Down the bank, I saw some movement. Camo Man was watching us from 50 yards away. With all the fish in front of us and the wide section of river, I told him to join us on the other side and fish. He looked confused. I guess fly fishermen don’t normally ask him to share a fishing hole.

Camo Man scrambled up the bank, wasting no time casting his big spinning lure with a plop in the middle of the river.

“Man, there sure are a lot of fish in here,” Camo Man said after a couple of casts.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is the only part they stocked,” I replied as Camo Man reeled in a fish.

Over the next ten minutes, Camo Man put on a clinic on how to catch trout. He was catching ten to our one. Shyly, he said he had never fly-fished before, almost trying to atone for his perceived sin of spin fishing. His confession was interrupted by another trout at the end of his line. After releasing the trout gently, Camo Man made another cast. Just as he asked how much a fly fishing setup costs, he caught another.

I thought hard while he fought a nice 20-inch brown trout. It had been an hour since our last fish. I don’t care how much I love to fly fish; I like catching fish more. As he released the brown trout back into the pool, I yelled across the pool, “Today is your lucky day! I’ll trade ya straight up!”