Opening Day
By Neil M. Travis, Montana
Those two words once brought joy to my heart. In households
across the land, grown men daydreamed of days astream, and
wives wished that trout season had never been invented. Today
most trout fisheries are open to year around angling, and the
ritual of opening day has been relegated to the memories of
those of us who experienced it.
In Michigan, where I misspent most of my youth, it opened the
third Saturday in the month of April. All the good trout
streams were located in the northern part of the state,
and in the north country at the end of April, winter was
never very far away. This resulted in the faithful expressing
much concern about the conditions that they might encounter
when they struck out for their favorite trout stream.
As the fateful day approached all eyes were keenly focused
on the long range weather forecast, and reports from the
north country were eagerly sought out. The amount of snow
was of great concern. If there was lots of snow, then a
quick warming trend could make the streams unfishable, and
turn the back roads into impassable mud holes. Too much snow
could mean that the back roads and campgrounds would still
be closed, making access difficult, if not impossible. If
it had been unusually warm, the early hatches might be
finished before the season opened. It was clear that opening
day was fraught with uncertainty.
One thing was certain, that come hell or high water, the
faithful addicts would be there. More often than not, that
is exactly what we found, at least the high water part.
Opening day was akin to young love, filled with promise,
but permeated with uncertainty. The streams were usually
too high and too cold for good fly fishing, unless your
bent was towards nymph fishing. The hatches, when they
were present, were customarily sparse and elicited little
interest on the part of the trout. Sometimes the weather
was delightful, but on more occasions than I care to
remember it was abysmal.
In retrospect, opening day was never about fishing,
although no one would ever admit it. The faithful knew
that opening day was a ritual, a time of renewal and
revival. Opening day reassured us that things were as
they should be, that God was in His heaven, and that
all was right with the world. We knew that fishing would
be better in the coming weeks, but for now it was enough
to feel the water flowing around one's waders, to smell
the damp earth, and to renew that essential contract
between one's self and his environment. Opening day was
about renewing old friendships forged through the years
along trout streams. It was a time to rejoice with those
who returned, and to lament over those whose angling days
were over. Opening day was a celebration of life as the
Creator intended it to be lived, a new beginning, the
start of yet another voyage upon the uncharted sea of
life's experiences. Opening day assured us that there
was a degree of normalcy in a world where change and
the status quo were constantly in conflict. Like a
comfortable old hat, opening day felt good, it fit and
gave meaning to life.
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and like
canvas waders, silk lines and gut leaders, the ritual
of opening day has become a part of angling history.
While I enjoy the freedom to fish year around, a part
of me longs for those days when anticipation and
uncertainty filled the long winter days, and it was
enough just to be alive, enjoying old friends and
feeling the water around my waders. ~ Neil M. Travis, Montana/Arizona
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