The fish can teach you something about yourself
You know how sometimes you stumble upon something that really gets you excited? You go all of your life it seems and think, “if I had only known about this sooner”. Yes?
For me that’s been fly fishing and tying. Or rather, the science behind fly fishing and tying. I still know so little and I am thoroughly fascinated by how different fish species live, react, interact, breed. How those same species act differently depending on their geographic location. How a seemingly simple approach to the waterside can spook the fish or keep them around. How different stages of insect growth and expiration can determine how fish are feeding. How the rod eventually becomes an extension of your arm. How the water speaks to you.
To any reader who already enjoys fly fishing and is quite a bit more knowledgeable than, say, me, please excuse my child-like wonderment at this whole process. I’m an avid learner of all the things and if you want to impart any wisdom, please toss my way. I would be remiss in not admitting that all these things are old hat to some and I seem to be wearing my Captain Obvious Cape today, but this is new to me and I am ever so glad that I stumbled down this path.
These fish live in the creeks, rivers and streams that we visit on a semi-regular basis (semi-regular compared to time spent there by these very same fish) and to think that it’s really their equivalent to our living room, our kitchen, our backyard, our drive-up restaurant, their stomping ground, humbles us a bit, or at least it should. At least it puts me in my place.
Then there’s carefully looking under the rocks, in the air, on your shirt sleeve when you arrive to see what insects are hatching. Do this so that you can “match up” what the fish are grabbing. You do this over and over and over again until it becomes an almost automatic dance with the water and the fish and the hatches and the temperatures of the water and the air and then you do it all over again.
And it’s not guaranteed that you catch those fish. It’s not guaranteed that you’ve got that roll cast just right, that you have the best fly match for what species of fish you’re ready to meet and what they just happen to be enjoying that day, that hour. It’s not guaranteed that you feel that beauty grab your hook, tightening up that line. It’s not guaranteed that you will begin the frenzied dance of fish and line and rod and reel. But that’s okay.
If you’re like me, it is guaranteed that you’ll want to do it again. And again.
Whether you danced or not, something will call you back.
On a recent trip to our glorious Smokey Mountains, we ended up on a creek area that was rather rocky with many wet cascades and smallish pools of water at the base of each. I had taken cues from others in our group of avid anglers just before dropping a line in one of these pools, remembering they were planning on using slightly larger flies than what I had chosen for our earlier afternoon excursion in another area. I tied on a black Wooley Bugger in hopes of at least getting a few inspecting nibbles from one or more of the locals. After choosing a particularly interesting pool, I released my fly from it’s safe carrying place on my rod, barely dipped the thing into the water just in front of an overhanging small boulder and WHAM!!!
Something accepted my invitation. I couldn’t see it. I hadn’t even unlocked my reel yet. Yeah. That’s how unprepared I was. I looked around for my husband, Mike, for moral support, for guidance, to just yell or to brag, not sure but he had moved further downstream. With all the falling water and rocks, this area was quite noisy so he did not hear me call out to him. It was at that moment that I understood that I was locked into this tango. Fish, meet Cindy, Cindy, meet fish. I started reeling in the short bit of line I had let out already, my rod bending more from the fight of the fish than the weight. Yeah, that was going to be my story. I looked up again for reassurance that I wasn’t delusional, not hung up on a twig or rock - and then I saw Mike. He had seen my rod bending with the weight of this creature, saw my face with what I’m sure was the equivalent of me finding the lonely, lovely onion ring that gets sneaked into my to-go bag of Burger King fries on occasion, and he grinned. He was happy and curious, so much so that he clambered over the boulders to see what I had hooked. I panicked a tiny bit and did the rod-lift with this fish that was bucking like a wild horse, not thinking quickly enough to swing my cap out there to cradle it tenderly while I get it back into the water. I had hooked a well-fed 14-16-inch brown trout - in the Appalachians. I’ve caught maybe 5-6-inch trout before in those mountain streams and creeks but this one was apparently a bit of a bruiser. This guy popped off as I was gathering my senses, trying to grab the line. I had to take a moment to catch my breath and savor what had just happened. Fortunately, I had enough of an encounter that all I could do was grin and accept the feeling of amazement at that brief connection between that fish’s afternoon and mine. I am so very thankful for that quick few minutes.
What a ride!
You’ll have to think about forgiving me here, please.
No photo.
I know some folks say no photo, it didn’t happen. But it did happen. This was the highlight of my weekend. It was the perfect thing to happen to the point that I was completely satisfied and ready to pack up for the evening to take that image in my mind and replay it as many times as I wanted. But I stayed, moving to another pool and then another until Mike called me off the rocks to head out for the evening.
If that could happen every time, maybe that’d be cool but it’s the thrill of the chase, the time on the water. Out of cell phone range. No emails to answer. Only you, the wild and maybe some of those skills will pay off. Maybe not. Again, it’s okay.
It’s so much to take in for someone newly coming in to any particular outdoor hunting or fishing activity but also may be so simple. Finding a mentor with good, ethical experience is such an important thing. I have found that mentor and support in Mike and a few other folks.
Figuring out that those animals like what they like, when they like it and, similar to my case, if you happen to have a line in the water right when they are receptive to all the things, you may just meet that fantastic fish. You may also learn, as in my case, that by merely getting outside, really outside with no digital connections, you can begin to reset yourself.