I fish. I used to fish a lot. Most people, that are acquainted with me, even remotely, know I have a quite, almost reverent love for fly fishing. Recently I have noticed, after a fish-filled spring, my rod has gotten a little dustier than usual. I hate that what seems so important (i.e. real life) always gets in the way of what really is important. I envy the guys down at the local fly shop (Western Rivers, check 'em out) as they sit all day amongst hand-tied flies, telling stories, and swapping the latest "get out on the water and here's what you should use" advice. Plus, most of them have figured out how to fish for a living...I have always said, if I could use a fly rod to support a lifestyle, and eventually a family, I would sign up for that gig immediately!...maybe that is something I need to pursue...
Why the love? A lot of my buddies always excuse themselves from the fun with, "I don't have the patience" or "it seems like such a hard thing to learn." Pure silliness. Sure, it might be a bit more challenging, then say, throwing a worm out on a hook, and waiting until something bites...but the challenge also counts as the fun in this instance. It's just me, the water, and a rising trout. All I need to focus on is, "how well can I present this fly, to that fish, to get it to bite". If he bites, then you work him in...if he doesn't bite, there is still some satifaction in the hunt. I'm pursuing a fish, but somehow, everytime I am on a stretch of water...I seem to learn a little more about myself. So, call this a confession/statement of intent, if you will. I'm gonna dust that rod off, and keep it wet more often than dusty...here's to the trout waiting to be caught.
