The Old Fly Fisherman Il Pescatore

One recent afternoon I joined a group of fellow students to visit a small town in the upper Arno River Valley in the heart of Toscana/Tuscany. It was a picture book afternoon with clear skies and warm temperatures, a clear change from the lingering effects of a prolonged spell of unseasonably cold and wet weather for the past few weeks(March-April).
The town of Poppi is seldom visited by tourists except those of Italian origins and those foreigners with an interest in medieval history who want to examine an intact and preserved example of castle construction.
Perched on a strategic hilltop near the center of the older part of the town, the castle commands an important position above the river and its valley. The views in both directions along the river are clear and unobstructed-clearly a tactical advantage over any adversaries.
As we departed the train station, the structure was lost to view, and we had to cross a bridge before beginning the steep climb to the castle. As we crossed the bridge, I looked over the side and saw clear, moving water. The river/stream is about 30 yards wide, and probably less than 1 meter deep. I thought this looks like a trout stream. I looked up stream and I saw him: il pescatore!
He was grey headed, standing in the water, about 3 meters from the bank. He was dressed lightly, with only a long sleeved shirt, long pants with hip waders. He didn't have a creel or a back pack, nor was any of this gear behind him on shore. No doubt he was fishing home waters.
The next thing I noticed was his rod or "canna". From the bridge, it appeared to be about 5 meters in length, with a heavy butt, like a spey rod. Except- no reel, no line box! Only a line attached at the tip. With the line he could roll cast across the stream to the edge of some willows that overhung the water. It looked like a good spot, but he didn't appear to have any luck. But the scenario was classic trout stream, trout fisherman.
Later on that afternoon, when we returned on our way to the train station, I stopped on the bridge to observe the water. Sure enough, on the down stream side of the bridge, there were trout holding on the edge of the bridge footing, perhaps a dozen or more of decent sized trout. But no fishermen anywhere. Next time I'll have my rod and try my luck.