What’s the big deal? Fly Fishing, why does it become so addictive? Or is it just me? As a boy growing up I saw the allure of being out in the open fields, gone all day chasing those small brown allusive trout.
The pride, walking home with 5 or 6 strung out through their gills, on long pieces of grass entwined together. Different times, when parents shooed you out the house, take the bloody dog with you! No worries about you being safe. You, yourself not worried at all! Maybe wondering where the game warden was lurking!!! That dedicated preserver of trout, making sure you kept to the limit. Problem was back then, I never knew what the limit was. I just made sure my license was current for some measly token payment!
Years later Fly Fishing again, loving every moment, on the steam as much as possible. Is it the art of casting that perfect fly? Or wading through some bumbling brook, dodging the trees, bushes, brambles to sneak up on that unsuspecting fly gobbling trout.
Trying to figure out where to position yourself, so you can get a cast on him, without showing yourself. Trying not to snag every branch that is swaying in your way as you cast. Is that the brooks way of protecting its own? Karma, you need it as an ally.
Is it the feeling you get after a long day working the streams or lakes? aching, sore, happy, feel good tiredness after the long walk, stumbling through water over boulders? Or the feeling of peacefulness from being out with nature, the quietness that settles over you. Being whole again, no rat race, no conversations, just you observing all that is around you. No pressure, no deadlines, no responsibility. Dare I say it, no family commitments just you, casting that perfect, or not so perfect fly.
All I know, I feel the pressure building after I come home to get out on the water again. Time is short we are a blink in time, gone tomorrow! So, I am making the most of it while I still can. That perfect cast, playing and landing that muscled trophy right into my net.