The Shorter Moments of Fly Fishing

Writing about fly fishing can often focus on the seemingly insignificant. The intricacies of gear, the eccentricities of fish, and the common paces that anglers go through are quaint at best. But with all those things there is a familiarity. In it and through it there is something special, something remarkable.

Particularly on the stream, where you can get lost in your thoughts, the mundane can be focused on for an inordinate length of time. Facets of the day that seem inconsequential get dissected and analyzed for hours. It happens when you’re catching fish, and it happens when you’re not catching fish. Like the line to a song that just replays over and over in your mind until you can’t help but sing it softly to yourself, the routine of the fly fisher is an endless loop.

For me, one part of that routine is the moment immediately before I begin.

Recently I was walking downstream on a large river in Maine. I’d never fished it before, and the rapids and swells were somewhat intimidating. Fully aware that these are the kinds of mental and physical obstacles I encounter anytime I fish a new piece of water, I somehow ushered those doubts to the back of my mind in favor of a utopian experience. The trout would come easy this time, I thought.

That was perception. The reality was before me. Fishing required a little psychological recalibration.

For a four-hour drive, a half-hour boat ride, the interval of unpacking followed by gearing up, and a half-mile walk to the river I had been positively champing at the bit to fish. Upon seeing the water, I paused. The excuses for not rushing in headlong are legion. There was the aforementioned unfamiliarity. There were also the doubts. There was a momentary pause.

Don’t get me wrong. This wasn’t the kind of pause that hinged upon an existential “to fish or not to fish” crisis. Heading back to the cabin or just taking a hike were never options. But in that brief silence I had to consciously say that this is the spot and this is the time. Here, all of my expectations will either play out or fail to come to fruition.

Minutiae, right?

I know myself enough that I know those endless-loop thoughts: “Is this the pool?” “If not this one, do I want to walk further downstream?” “Just fish!” “I doubt anything is going to be rising in water like that.” “Why isn’t anyone else in this stretch?” “Should I be happy about the solitude or take that as a hint this spot stinks?” And so on.

Before I seem any more unhinged than I already have painted myself to be, let me say that I did walk down and fish. Those thoughts evaporated into the endless stream of considerations regarding pattern, presentation, and position.

However, I know I’m not alone. Fly fishers are by and large a contemplative bunch. We love to get in there, pound the water, and muscle fish into the net. But we also enjoy the deliberate nature of the orchestration of every little event that goes into it. And that can mean mustering up the decision to say here and now.

It is hard in the winter when it is cold. It is difficult on new water. It can be a challenge when life off the river is weighing heavily on our minds.

Perhaps a lot of this is an attempt to justify my indecision or reluctance to change. Or a propensity to overthink. But I know fellow anglers go through the same steps before that first wading boot enters the water. And that is okay – good, even. It is of great benefit to go through those motions in the moment, but also to be able to look back and see that process.

I like to revisit fish that I’ve caught and conversations that I’ve had with others on the water. But I believe that it is to my advantage to take moments to dwell on the shorter moments that seem inconsequential or insignificant but are also integral to my fly fishing. What I can learn about my approach to fly fishing, and about myself, can be something special, something remarkable.

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Matthew of Casting Across is a true gem in the fly fishing world and our North Shore area. With a weekly blog (sometimes even more) and podcast, Matt is consistently producing wonderful and refreshing content that was a huge inspiration for the new transformation of Capefish. With his writing and podcasts he has the unique ability to bring you to a better mindset and remind you just why you fell in love with fishing. It was a true pleasure being able to work with Matt and we very much look forward to having him become a regular on the Capefish blog. Please do not hesitate to visit his site at CastingAcross.com and be sure to check out his podcast on Apple podcast or Spotify – just search Casting Across and you’ll be sure to find it.