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An email from a friend started me thinking about writing
this piece. It is about my tenth attempt to make it work.
It is not an easy topic for me as it touches on something
that words don't really work well in describing. I often
wonder myself why I enjoy fishing as much as I do. It is
certainly not for the volume of fish caught. It is about
something else, something more than that.
It starts with memories. When I think about going out to
fish my first questions are where and when. As I consider
time and place memories of come to me. Those memories come
back in remembrances of places, foliage, scenery, site and
smell. It may bring back memories of friends or solitude
of walks taken and even of fish caught or not. Some of my
most vivid memories do not involve the fish. I remember
fishing on the Cold River, a beautiful late spring morning
with crystal clear water flowing over rounded boulders.
Trees were covered with the light green of new foliage
and the darker green of the more mature leaves. The light
was strengthened as the sun rose, tinged with the green
of the trees. The smell was that wet smell of the river
and its surroundings. I waded for quite a distance in
total silence, enraptured by the beauty of the gorge I
was in. I loved that morning enough so that I went back
the next day and repeated the experience. No fish were
encountered on either day but I still think of it as some
of my finest fishing days. There was the beauty of it all,
the freshness of a new location and the fact that my casting
was uninterrupted by fish so that I was able to focus on that
process to the exclusion of all else. I felt that on those
days my casting was spot on and I got great joy from it.
Last weekend I went fishing off Fire Island, NY. I had
no idea where to fish and for two days did not bother
to take out the rod. It was enough to walk and enjoy
the beach while others cast through the surf. The surf
was up and as I walked along the shore I touched the edge
of the ocean as the waves rose up to meet me. I fished
those waters with my mind, looking for the holes and
depressions that I suspected would hold fish. On the
last morning I went out on a dock on the bay side and
stood there alone watching the sun rise. Most of the
boats were in storage for the winter and I was alone
and able to cast without any obstructions. I worked on
my double haul, trying to improve my timing and distance.
It was meditative in its repetition and listening to the
fly zing past me had a musical quality to it. I did catch
a Shad that morning but whatever, it certainly did not
add or detract significantly from the morning.
A few weeks ago during a wonderful evening midge hatch
I was casting to a pool and working on my drift. It is
always a problem for me to get a nice long drift through
the pool. I wanted to be able to cast upstream to the
head of the pool and have my fly drift all the way to
the tail with a minimum of drag. I was on the Swift
River, MA where fish have a PhD. in fly identification
and can easily differentiate a real fly from a fisherman's
fly unless it is presented just right. I caught several
fish there and was very pleased, but when someone asked
me how big and what type I realized I really did not
know. It wasn't about the fish, rather it was about the
fishing.
There are many stories, like the one this spring when
three men and I went up to fish for trout and salmon in
Rangeley Maine. All of us had caught trout and salmon
there in times past, all except one. He had recently
lost his wife to cancer and we were there for the
fishing and the opportunity to be with Bob. Bob was
the least experienced of us all and somewhere into
the third day he had yet to catch a fish. That day,
it seemed without speaking that we were all totally
focused on Bob's efforts to catch. I think the three
of us measured our success that day by Bob's catching
or not. I don't remember if he did catch a fish or not,
but I do remember how we all felt about Bob, his loss
and our hopes that catching a fish and the experience
of being together with us would be part and parcel to
his catching his life stride again.
Fishing is a process that starts with wanting to catch
fish, it progresses through catching fish, catching more
fish, bigger fish and then at some point it is no longer
about fish but about fishing. Fishing becomes something
about oneself and all the external stimuli become less
and less important. This transformation is in one sense
spiritual, zen-like or meditative. I suspect those reading
this will all find words to describe this state of being.
For each of us it is different. I think that everyone can
use religious or spiritual terms to describe this place of
being and I think it really talks to the universal nature
of life. Muslim or Jew, Christian, Hindu or Native religion,
Atheist or "other," when on the water taking in the
immensity and minutia of it all find ourselves transformed
into a place that is protected and secure.
When we find our self in this place or space we realize
that this is something to cherish. We have transformed
ourselves from being an outsider looking in to a part
of this magnificence. At that moment, we also realize
that it is important to nurture this place and protect
it and all that makes it what it is. No longer can we
accept wanton killing of fish for the sake of a photo
or the trash that degrades our haven. It is not
necessarily a conscious act, but sometimes just the
unconscious act of letting that next fish go, or
caressing it rather than just grabbing it. It might
cause you to stop and pick up that piece of trash that
someone before and less fortunate than you may have
left. Those places, both mental and physical, have
transformed themselves to your home and all that the
word home implies.
If we say that fishing is about fish then it is also
about insects, macro invertebrates, bait fish, the
water, trees, currents and tides, wind, weather,
friends and solitude. Fishing is not about catching
fish, it is SOOO NOT ABOUT THAT! Fishing is about
memories, about being someplace where our lives are
focused outside of our own needs and our own immediate
problems. Fishing is about friendships and things natural.
It is about being here now, being in the moment and being
a part of something much larger than our individual selves.
Those special moments, the first time and when we relive
them with our memories can bring us to places that others
may not know exist. Some find it with meditation, others
with running or swimming. I think some even find it with
sports like golf. We choose to find that place through the
long rod and the places that the long rod brings us to.
And best of all, we can relive those moments when we choose.
~ Jed
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