Frozen Feet and Forgotten Brownies

          The more days I spend on the river, the more I am reminded of why I fly fish.  And in preparing to write this, it made me think of the four stages, once described to me, of fly fishing.  When you first start with a fly rod you just try to catch whatever fish will take the fly.  Once you’ve gotten a handle the technique, you start to pursue the largest fish.  And after you’ve caught your share of big fish, your quarry becomes the most difficult fish.  And eventually, the whole point of the sport is less about catching than it is about being out on the water.  While this could as much be a description of maturing through life it serves well to describe how we progress with a fly rod.

I think though, what makes our time out on the waters so great is that these stages are not black and white.  I am admittedly probably best described by my search for big fish, as are my friends mostly, but my last trip to Rock Creek cut away from the stages of which I discuss above.  Given my successes on the Bitterroot River a little more than a week ago, I was excited to get done with my classes and get out on the river.  We knew it would be another fair weather weekend (above freezing) and figured fishing would be good for February.  So we jumped in my buddy’s truck and prepared for another day out on the river.

Fast forward four hours. 

In our rush to hit the river I had stuffed my brown sugar pop tarts down my face but had forgotten the rest of the food (a giant brownie no less) in the car.  Now, I was a mile up river, trudging through six inch snow, frozen enough to make it no fun to walk through, but soft enough to sink me down past my boots.  With no fish to my name, it had been a long cold day on the river.    By this point, especially in February, most of us, myself included, would probably be thinking of a hot drink in a comfortable chair.   But, this wasn’t the case that day.

A warm day for February but definitely cold feet.

When you’re spoiled like I am and within walking distance of a world class river, sometimes we take our time on the water for granted.  But, as a double major and a president of a campus group, more and more I am beginning to appreciate the time I spend fishing.  Time on the water is not just a chance to go fishing, it is a chance to slow down and appreciate where I am.  While I am blessed here in Western Montana with rivers like the Blackfoot and Flathead, I have never fished an “un-pretty” river, even in the city.  And the more and more that I fish and the less time I have on the water, the more it becomes about the sights and sounds rather than the tug on the lines.  Ryan Peterson, a guide from Kamchatka and the fly fisherman philosopher featured on the new Felt Soul Media film (how about that for alliteration) Eastern Rises, said, “The whole sport of fly fishing, at root, it’s kind of a selfish game, it doesn’t benefit society in any way, except that your soul is enriched in a way that is not calculable…”  Whether it’s the bright colors on a trout’s side or the softness of the water as it flows over the rocks in a freestone river, Peterson catches it.

The more that I go fishing, the more I walk away feeling as though something within myself is satisfied, at least for that moment.

Learning Goals:

1.       1. Why pay for a shrink or marriage counseling when I am sure there is a lake or a river within driving distance?

2.      2.  If it has been too long, call in sick and convince your rich friend to take you out in the boat.

3.      3. If all else fails, take out a second mortgage on the house and buy a little shack in Mexico to chase roosterfish on the beach ( I promise you, drinking corona on a Mexican beach will put your mind at ease).