“Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick.”
— Red Smith eulogizing a fellow sportswriter
We all die, but how many of us lead contented, purposeful lives? Henry David Thoreau made famous the observation that, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” But Thoreau wasn’t much of a fisherman. In fact, he eventually gave it up entirely.
Reading Red Smith’s quote got me to thinking about how often fishing leads to an understanding of ourselves as sentient beings wholly engaged in the act of living. (Something Thoreau would have appreciated.) It’s an addiction really. And once you get used it you can’t go too long without longing for the experience again.
I’m sure many of you have had experiences similar to the following – experiences that make you realize you’re fully alive (and in some cases that you would like to remain so):
- Discovering where a previously unknown lunker makes his home
- Effortlessly executing a perfect cast with a perfectly balanced rod
- Watching a trout explode on your grasshopper
- Tingling with childish anticipation when launching a boat for a day – a whole day – on the river
- Finally noticing that log jam your boat is about to slam into
- Spotting a nice trout before it spots you
- Locating a new hotspot on a river you’ve been fishing for years
- Teaching someone the art of fly fishing and seeing the spark in their eye when things begin to click
- Witnessing a “freshwater shark” in hot pursuit of the trout you’re currently exercising
- Feeling the hair stand up on the back of your neck and the ringing in your ears when the afternoon thunderstorm crackles a little too close
- Solving a tricky hatch
- Hearing what sounds like the thud of a baseball in a catchers mitt only to realize that a hawk just dive-bombed a cliff swallow an arms length from your boat
- Boating a nice trout during a salmon fly hatch and finding the naturals oozing from the gorged fish
- Falling in the river
- Rowing through a windstorm that has your driftboat moving upstream
- Watching a trout that’s rejected a dozen different patterns finally eat your fly
- Nailing yourself in the back of the head with a lead shot
- Looking up to see a moose and her calf 30’ away
- Visiting a great river for the first time
- Drawing blood from your clients face while demonstrating why you shouldn’t roll cast from a driftboat
- Stumbling on a new fly pattern that’s got the trout in a feeding frenzy
- Marveling at a hatch that’s so heavy you have to keep your mouth shut lest you find out what mayflies taste like
- Not wimping out in miserable weather and being rewarded with fly-bashing streamer fishing
- Focusing on the act of fishing and being oblivious to the beautiful surroundings
- Listening to your wife say, “I can’t wait to go fishing!” – in January
- Casting to, and getting a strike from, a mallard on a #10 Olive Stimulator (no, I didn’t set the hook)
- When the afternoon wind subsides, the lake glasses over and the rings of the evening rise begin to appear
- Watching a kid land his first trout
- Seeing your fishing partner “flossing.” Flossing is defined as the act of hooking a fish and – in an effort to strip it in – clenching the fly line in your teeth because you forgot to place it under your index finger
- Hanging on for dear life as a hooked trout rips line from the reel – one of my favorite sounds – and moments later comes skyrocketing out of the water
- Hanging on for dear life as a bird swoops down on your dead drifting fly and takes to the air (no, I didn’t set the hook on that one either)
- Realizing you’ll never know half there is to know about fly fishing
Living is the trick. And when you’re fishing, you’re livin’ large.
Guy Turck
Jackson Hole
February 2003
