Author Norman Maclean wrote, "Nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him." Lately, I've been feeling like this apples to me. I started fly fishing two years ago, but I've got so much more to learn.
I came back from my Wyoming trip wanting to learn all I could about fly fishing, to be as adept and artful as the men on "A River Runs Through It." When I went to a local outdoorsman store and asked about fly fishing tackle, the owner laughed and said that one couldn't fly fish too many places in Kansas. It's too flat a state; the streams and creeks are too slow, too warm, and too muddy; and there aren't any trout out here naturally. My buddies who like to fish are all bait casters, and they scoff at fly fishing because it's too much work.
That's what I love about it. It's involving and active the entire time. I can go fishing for a morning, an afternoon, or even all day, and I can't believe how fast the time flies by. The only activity that passes time quicker than fly fishing is sleep. I go an entire day not realizing I hadn't eaten or that I've gotten a nasty sun burn.
I don't catch much and my casting is ugly at times. I lose all my good flies before their use wears out. They end up snagged in trees, stuck in the mouths of fish too heavy for my line, or hooked on a limb or rock under the surface. I can count the number of boast-worthy catches on one hand -- the 5-pound largemouth from Grandpa Rex's pond last June, the channel catfish from Dan Davis's uncle's pond last September, the wiper from the Clinton Lake dam last summer, and the 14-inch rainbow I pulled out of Bennett Springs two years ago. I've pulled lots of catfish out of the lakes and ponds, and I catch the dickens out of bluegill and other smaller panfish. I'm not too lucky with the largemouth bass, though.
It's a funny thing that I don't even like to eat fish that much. I'm not keen for a trophy, either. So why do I like to fish?
It's the solitude and the communion with nature. It's the art and technique of casting in adverse conditions. It's the strategy and challenge of the hunt. It's the rushing rapids, the croaking frogs, and the chirping crickets. The cool refreshing feeling of having my feet in the shallows or standing in waders in a stream. The unique alarm when you first spot a fish swimming close by, sneaking up on you and darting away when one of you notices the other. The sight of underwater life in action, whether it be fish feeding, crawdads scuttling, or snakes slithering. It's the fact that a lousy day of fishing seems to wipe the worst of days off your mind; even when the fishing is lousy, it's still a pretty good day.
I can't say I know how to fish all that well. When I show up at the lake or on some pond and others are also out there fishing, I know the look that I often receive. "Ah, this guy's a trout fisherman," is the overt recognition, but the underlying assumption seems to be that anyone wielding a fly rod is some sort of purist or snob. Anyone wielding a fly rod must be a very adept fisherman. Well, I'm neither a snob nor a pro. I don't look down on those with "regular" rods; the only rod I own (or want to own) is my fly rod. I don't care if the others have more luck, can cast farther, or catch larger fish. I just enjoy the technique, the repetition, and the hard work that goes into fly fishing. I'm still learning the art -- or the sport, whichever you want to call it.
So far, I don't really share this passion for fly fishing with anyone. For me, it's not so much about socializing as it is about finding an inner peace. I don't mind fishing in company -- it's actually a lot of fun most of thet time -- and I don't let my self-consciousness get the better of me. Most of the time I completely phase out anyone around me, but there's a certain satisfaction that comes from landing a fish after a hard fight when there are witnesses present. I just wish I would be able to experience others witnessing me landing a fish more often than I end up snagging or tangling my line in front of others. Nevertheless, when fly fishing, my desire is not just to perfect my abilities as best as I can so that I catch fish not by accident, but by intent and by art. Moreover, I simply wish to look back and be able to say, "I can't believe it's so late," not having a clue how time passed so quickly. To be able to pack up a full box of flies and not be frustrated at losing so many effective (and costly) flies. To be able to exercise humility when people ask how the day went instead of having to pretend I didn't care so much about getting skunked.
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