Fishing and Skiing the Edges

Snowing again. Cold on cold. While there is snow, I go. I hit the mountains to ski. Leave the fly rods home. I prefer to keep my fingers warm with my  big ski mittens. I never did like those fingerless fishing gloves.

As some of my friends tell me, my skiing is more like a walk in the woods. But, that is fine. I like my pace. I can see things better going a bit slower. Not that I usually see all that much but I can see the edges. I like the edges of things.

There are definitely similarities in fishing and skiing edges.  The main "runs" in a river and on the slopes can quickly have every square inch fished or skied. It is practically impossible, unless you get up early, to fish the main runs of our more popular rivers or to catch fresh powder on ski runs. Every square inch gets fished hard. Every square inch of powder gets skied off early.  When that is the case, the best option is to fish and ski the edges.

Sometimes I walk up to a river. I look up and I look down river. Fly fishers are all over the place and stacked in the main runs. I then have to  look for the edges in "marginal" water. I look for the "nooks and crannies" that have not been fished over. I have caught some good fish on those edges.

I skied yesterday. I caught it just right. Five inches or more of fresh powder. But, even on a week day, the powder was quickly skied off by the crowds. The snow was still good but I wanted to ski powder so I looked to the edges of the runs.  And there it was.

I could ski the edges. Sometimes my lines were only 3 to 5 feet wide but I was floating, edging, and turning in un-trampled powder. Its silly, but some times I will just stop and take a look back at the tracks I made in the smooth powder. I love those "S" turns imprinted in the snow.  Maybe we all try to leave our ephemeral "signatures",  even as we know these signatures in the snow will be skied off. 

There is "something else" about fishing and skiing on edges. Edges are what the Celts call "thin places." Sometimes while on such edges, we see, sense, hear, or feel things we normally would not. Maybe it is because it is just too crowded and noisy in the main runs to hear anything other than skiers flying by or fishermen yelling. Sometimes we have to get out of the "mainstream" and into the quiet of a "thin place".

Let me know what you find on those edges.  If you beat me to  a certain edge, and I see your tracks, I will hesitate, examine your "signature" and then synchronize my turns with yours. Maybe we will both see or hear "some-thing. "

Just Because We Can, Should We? Resting Our Favorite Tail Waters

I am convinced if we do not intentionally make efforts to reduce the amount of pressure on our favorite tail waters we will continue to see their deterioration.

I ponder the question: Just because we can fly fish tail waters all year long; Should we? Of course, we can go to Pueblo's Arkansas tail water any day in the winter and catch fish. We can most often catch fish in Eleven Mile Canyon, Chessman Canyon and the 'Dream Stream'. But, should we?

I propose a closed season on our tail waters for the winter. But, since this is not going to happen, I suggest we impose some type of restriction upon ourselves. And, yes, I am speaking to catch and release, barb-less, fly fishers.  

Earlier this Fall,  I posted a piece describing life on Perelandra (C.S Lewis). This is a fictional fantasy  about life on another planet. Perelandra is a perfect paradise before the fall. It is truly Eden.  On Perelandra, our relationship with the natural world and even ourselves is quite different than on earth. In the story, a  human from Earth visits this planet and experiences these relational differences. 

His name is Ransom and he lands on Perelandra.  He roams around this beautiful paradise. He becomes thirsty. He wanders through a forest and  sees these great globes of yellow fruit hanging from a tree. He accidentally pushes one of his fingers through the fruit. He puts the hole up to his mouth and drinks. The drink is wonderful and brought Ransom great pleasure. His natural reaction is to find another fruit and drink again. What is most interesting is Ransom's reaction to this pleasure. He is about to grab another fruit and drink again but he stops.  CS Lewis writes;

“He was about to pluck another one, when it came to his head that he was now neither hungry nor thirsty. And yet to repeat a pleasure so intense and almost so spiritual seemed an obvious thing to do… Yet something seemed opposed to this reason.”

What was this “something” that seemed opposed to his reason?  Is there "something" in us that  might oppose our reason to catch fish after fish when we freely can keep catching fish?   Can we ever just say no to catching fish when catching fish is "so intense and almost so spiritual ? Is there  "something" in us that makes us ask, why we need to catch fish all year? Is there something in us that might tell us that "enough is enough", and "I want to give these fish a break"?

On Perelandra, Ransom has an insight as he ponders the question of why he is not grabbing for another fruit. He realizes that on Earth he has spent most of his life "reiterating pleasures, not through desire, but in the teeth of desire".

There is a difference. There is a difference between being motivated by desire and being in the teeth of desire.  It is one thing to love fly fishing and the pleasure it brings us as we catch fish. It is quite another thing to repeat this pleasure out of  addiction, compulsion and being in the teeth of desire.

If for no other rationalism, we should give the rivers a break, as we  ponder the difference and consider the "something" that might be opposed to our reason, especially if the only reason is because 'we can'. 

Living In "Dis-ease": Fly Fishing In and Out of Rhythm

In the opening lines of Ronald Rolheiser’s book titled, “The Holy Longing”, he says, “It is no easy task to walk this earth and find peace. Inside of us, it would seem, something is at odds with the very rhythm of things and we are forever restless, dissatisfied, frustrated, and aching… Put more simply, there is within us a fundamental dis-ease.”

For most of my life, I have wrestled with this “dis-ease” and feeling out of rhythm. Fly-fishing, perhaps more than any other activity, has given me some ease to this “dis-ease”, particularly, when fishing a hatch and I perceive a sense of living in harmony with the feeding fish. Yet, even as wonderful as fly-fishing can be, the “dis-ease”, at some level, still persists.

In addition, there are those days while fly-fishing when I am out of tune even with the fish. My casts are out of tune. My timing is wrong. I am out of rhythm.  I might feel more confused and lost, than connected and at ease. Fly-fishing can reveal to me both sides of the paradox of belonging and not belonging, of being in harmony and out of harmony, of feeling at ease and not at ease.  

I believe how we come to terms with this dis-ease is an important aspect of our faith. If we are not aware of this "dis-ease", our uneasiness may drive us into all kinds of compulsions as we desperately try to find relief. My best guess at this point in my life is that we must be aware of the “dis-ease”, understand that it is part of the true spiritual human condition, and know how this condition can cast us into all kinds of directions.  By faith, I believe that ultimately, the “dis-ease” will be resolved.  Nevertheless, the question for now is how we will live with this dis-ease?  

Unfortunately, experiencing the Christian life as a “dis-ease” is not a very popular idea. The culture, even the Christian culture seems to be obsessed with easing any of our unhappiness and uneasiness.

 In this culture, it is not easy to just be left in our “dis-ease”.