A couple days ago, I was having a cup of coffee at one of our local shops. I was thinking about fishing the day before on a Northern Idaho freestone stream that has been regularly giving up good numbers of fat, healthy, beautiful West Slope cutthroat to large dry flies.
The sight of a cutthroat trout rising through crystal clear water to take ( or even refuse ) a dry fly is one of the great sights in fly angling. Some will hit the fly very aggressively, but more often the rise and the take have something of a casual quality. And in the water I’ve been fishing, the norm is to see the fish coming to the fly from some distance, often off the bottom of the river, before they get to the fly. Only when the light and water surface conditions obscure subsurface movement, is the take a surprise.
I was thinking about the last fish of the day, about the clear, deep blue sky, the green forest rising up and away from the banks of the river, the jumble of boulders at streamside, the bluegreen surface of the crystal clear water, the large salmonfly pattern drifting down through the pocket just above a partially submerged log, and the movement of the cutthroat well before and as he hit the fly.
I’m 58, John, and I still get that thrill and feeling of contentment. It’s so addictive, like a drug, that’s why we’re hooked. Continue the enjoyment, buddy.
Bruce
No…there is something about the connection between a rising fish, and a fisherman, that remains. It’s a hook that can’t be shaken. You may take it into the backing and downstream quite a ways…but somehow it always seems to reel you back in.
I’m guessing your question is rhetorical, and somewhat tongue and cheek, but for me the answer would be yes. It’s a qualified yes, depending on how challenging the fishing was. If it was relatively easy, say just getting a good drift and being moderately stealthy, I’d could easily forego it. For me after decades, certain challenges appeal, others not so much. After the untold thousandth rise, the image and the subsequent events are burned into my memory. Do I appreciate it any less? God, no. If not, perhaps more. I just choose to not repicate that memory very often. I don’t think it’s a question of stages, as in the ones supposedly, we, as flyfisherman wade through. More, I think, it’s part of our temperment and pychological make-up. I probably suffer from ADD and am too fidgety and pig- headed to appreciate the finest things in life. So, if you don’t get tired of it? In my opinion you’re truly blessed.
Well John, when that occurs then I will probably hang up the old fly rod. I usually do things that I enjoy or make me feel good in my spare time. At this point in my life I’ve said it many times. There is only one thing I could do everyday and that is flyfish. I play a lot of sports and do a lot of other things, but flyfishing is special. So that said, I doubt I could hang up the old rod. But call me again in about 10 years when I retire.
For me, it will not ever get old. I loved the way you described the water, structurs, bugs, and fish. I primarily fish a tailrace which is very different. Rising fish have something in common … poetry in motion. I’m sure I’m not the only flyfisherman whose last conscious thought/image before falling to sleep is a trout rising to a dry and taking it in. It’s a good question, but I don’t foresee it e ver getting old.
You could always take it to the next step beyond your hookless flies and try a flyless leader. See the fly in your mind and try to project it to the trout. In this zen stage of fly fishing one would always match the hatch with the image of a perfect fly unless you chose to take it one step farther and see the flybox in your mind from which you would have to make a selection. When you can catch and release the trout on a bare tippet you know that you are approaching enlightenment ( or the loony bin).
The river went from about 14,000 CFS yesterday evening to about 17,000 CFS this morning, and then started dropping and was down to just under 15,000 CFS late this afternoon. That makes for a tough day.
Not a lot of dry fly action, so I went with a rubber legs stonefly nymph.
Had another one just like this one, and a smaller one.
Also, in a zen moment for the rainbowchaser, I hooked up with a … very … large …FISH … that had a red stripe down its side … like … a … RAINBOW … as … in … STEELHEAD.
Unfortunately, he came unbuttoned after about ten seconds of bad mood stuff so no pix. His bad mood stuff, not mine, for sure.
I hear it said often, as with hunting…“I used to hunt” or “I used to fiish”. I for one do not understand it. Yet me best friend over a period of several years, gave up the gun, bow and rod? He hasn’t touched any of them for about 6yrs now. I still don’t get it.
I began bowhunting, at least in my mind at age 5, shooting alongside my dad. And until I could legally hunt, I chased chipmunks and starlings with a slingshot. To this day at 48yrs old it has not diminished in the least.
With fishing it is much the same. From the sound of the water to the feel of a fish on the rod, it defines me. The hatches coming off and the riseforms still do the same. And I gladly take the “cake” days without boredom or tiring of it…because I know for certain the tough days will come around soon enough. I don’t flyfish for the “challenge”…I flyfish for the enjoyment.
To decide to stop doing either of them would be like deciding not to love my kids. Because I’ve “known them so long” after all.
Sometimes we have to stop doing the things we have always loved. Maybe we can carry on in a limited way, sometimes even that is not possible. I have known fly fishers who can no longer wade even the most gentle waters. I myself had to stop waterfowling because my vision will not allow me to identify ducks and I refuse to shoot at random birds. It may be more important to hunt and fish in manner consistent with our own values than to just hunt and fish.
As most of yo9u know I had to forgo fishing last summer, as soon as my hand loosens up a bit, (in physical therapy now), I will be able to take my brand new Tenkara rod and go out to the spring creek and terrorize the biggest brown I can find. S
For me, it is more of just being out there. When I fish (only fly these days) I HUNT the fish, that is what entriges me. I don’t always get them, but I enjoy myself. I don’t believe it will ever get OLD to me
