What Knocks on The Door in the Night?

D.H. Lawrence in a poem titled, “The Song Of a Man Who has Come Through,“ beautifully describes the individual who contemplates what knocks on the door in the night.

The darkness of December inspires me to also consider what might be knocking on my door. What new thoughts and perspectives might I embrace? What new places might I need to explore and fish? What new people might I need to allow in my life?

In the case of this poem, the narrator at first seems to question if the one doing the knocking is here to cause harm. But then, concludes that it is three strange angels.  He decides to admit the angels who knock; “Admit them, admit them.”

However, most often, out of fear, I play it safe. I seal myself off from what knocks and even those individuals who wish me well. How could I ever be certain of those mysterious angels?

But sometimes, when I realize that I really have nothing to lose, I open the door. I admit them. And who knows how that decision might change my life.

And might lead to the elusive fish, and the garden of Hesperides that I seek.

A Tug is a Tug is a Tug: A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

 

Gertrude Stein was speaking of flowers.  But, I also wonder if it really matters what kind of fish we catch? A thing is what it is.

We cast our flies on the water hoping for a bite. We wait for a tug. Does it really matter what tugs?

Recently I found myself throwing streamers in several warm water ponds inhabited with Bass. The bass ambushed the flies like sharks. The tugs were forceful, solid and full of life holding deep in mystery.  

A tug is a tug is a tug.

Fly Fishing and Social Media

Generally, in the social media world there is a tendency to present our lives as more positive than reality.  It is difficult to compete with all those happy smiling faces, and so we keep it positive.

This is also true of fishing. When it comes to fishing, there is lot of pressure to appear successful.  If you are a guide or someone who is somehow making money through the fly fishing industry then the pressure is even greater. We have to keep posting pictures of our catches.  No one wants to be a failure.  We all need to put on a smiling face. We need to look good. So, as a guide, caught up in this craze, I also often post pictures of fish and give positive fishing reports.

However, social media most often does not capture the reality of a day on the river (or a day in the life, for that matter). The pictures are “snap shots” or highlights of when I or my clients finally caught a fish. The pictures do not show or reveal the hours and hours of fishing when nothing happens except messy tangles and snags and when the fish refuse to take the fly. We wait and wait and sometimes we are bored out of our minds.

Sometimes social media snapshots of a family vacation can be the same way. The family poses for a photo on the beach and everyone looks happy. However this picture might reveal a mere split second when the kids were not fighting, crying about getting stung by a jellyfish,  dirty diapers, or the parents were not having a reoccurring argument.

Therefore for this fishing post I have no picture of a fish or of smiling faces, or a group photo showing  connections with family and friends.  Fishing on a river, or daily living, has large segments of absent fish, loneliness and frustrations. 

This is the reality of life.  This is no fish story. But I can say it is life.

Late Fall at Deckers: South Platte River

Some people are just humble. I do not know why but when I see it in someone I recognize and value the quality. Such was the case when I took Bill and Caleb; Grandfather and grandson, fly fishing on the South Platte River below Deckers. I can't say that the quality of humility always helps a person catch fish but this did seem to be the case with these two gentleman. We had a fine morning sight fishing to Rainbows and Browns lurking below the surface under the seam lines. 

Longing to Know on the Dream Stream

Some things are rare in life.  What are the chances of my client John and I arriving on the Dream Stream and fishing virtually alone?

And rarer still, what are the chances of two men at mid life (ok, I guess I am past midlife already), casting to the elusive large forms moving under the currents while we talk about the deeper longings of the heart? Can two men, two strangers, really talk about such longings of the soul?

What longings?  There is the longing to connect to the huge fish that seem to avoid and reject every offering we make.   But there is more; the longing to connect to the beauty all around us, to each other, to life;  To some “bigger” life and perspective that is beyond fish caught or political debates or the score of some football game.

There are many things but as fly fishers there is the longing to know why the giant fish rejects us time and time again and the hours slip away.  But then there is the longing to know why a particular fish in the next moment takes the fly and we are tight to a huge mysterious Brown.  And at times, those fish stay on, and find themselves in our net and our trembling hands. 

And then there are the things we do not know, and perhaps can never know.  Regardless, to John it was "the longing to know.”  Know what?  It varies for each of us. We all have our losses and want to know. John was  thinking of deeper currents. Why at times in life we find love, meaning and belonging, and at other times we lose it and cannot find it? How can we ever know and understand such catches and losses?

We caught some huge beautiful fish and we also lost some. We long to know. We long to know where and if we belong in this vast valley under a wide sky. And we long to return.

Dream Stream South Platte River

Dream Stream Rainbows Continue to Rise

Luckiest Man in the World: Fly Fishing With Hope

If with a friend I can twirl this rod around my head again and again;  Casting my fly through the wind; and catch nothing, or maybe Something,  or at least hope that a fish might suddenly tug on the line, all within this beautiful place,  who is not to say I am the luckiest man in the world?

Dream Stream: Waiting and Waiting in the South Park Wind

We were cold and the wind was relentless. Nymphing was not producing. BWO"s were being blown all over the waters surface. A few risers were present. In between gusts we tried to cast. And after all that waiting and wind, sometimes a fish rose to take our dry fly.

Sustained in the Sadness: Casting On a Snowy Fall Morning

I watch the snow fall on the river. A cold, damp morning. The snow continues to fall as I feel a peculiar, yet familiar sadness.

I often feel that the way out of sadness is to not fight it.  Maybe I can just go with it like drifting my fly down a river. Perhaps I can be sustained by Something that runs deep in my soul; not necessarily sad or happy or anything at all, but just the energy of life.

Why pull myself out and away from that energy and that life?

So, I watch the snow fall. I can’t stop the snow from falling anymore than I can stop the sad feelings. Whole lives and memories fall away like the falling snow and down the currents.

But in the cold, damp, snow, there is Something sustaining that asks my heart to wait. I can keep watching, sustained in a peculiar sadness, waiting for some old heat to burn within my heart and for a large fish to take the fly.  

Shortening the Distances: Friendships In Fly Fishing

    There is no hiding it; I often feel and speak of the distances in life. Yet there is nothing like fishing with friends on the river to ease the loneliness of life.

    Often people will say to me, "You are too deep," or, "You think too much," which only makes me feel more distance and feel more alone. Those casts do not reach me.

    Yet sometimes, someone will throw me a different kind of cast;  a short, simple and direct kind of cast, similar to the back-hand cast needed to gently place the fly in front of  the large rainbow right in front of us, sipping midges. That kind of a cast speaks to me and shortens the distances. This is not a power cast but it is truthful and direct and on target.

     A little while back, I was complaining to my friend Earl about these distances. He patiently listened and waited; and then said to me, "You know Anthony, you are really not all that deep. I think we are all in the same place."

     Wow! I repeated his words."I am not all that deep. We are all in the same place." I thought about his comment for a while and realized how that cast reached me. Distances were shortened in my heart.

     Throughout the morning, many more casts were made connecting Rainbows, Browns and friends together.

Deckers Finicky Trout

Dream Stream Salmon

I really have not been fishing a whole lot for the Salmon. I pay attention to what my friends are telling me. People are walking the river and sometimes seeing stretches with nothing and then, all of a sudden there is a whole school of them and the water looks red.

And red seems to be the color for flies: Red copper Johns, San Juan's, midges and eggs.  Dead drift is the usual technique with lots of weight.

Southern Gentleman Respectively Makes Great Catch At Deckers South Platte River

My client, from Georgia, had a great morning on the South Platte at Deckers landing numerous trout from 14-19 inches. He did not count them or measure them. He was a perfect gentleman. It was a perfect morning.

Fly Fishing During the Dog-Days of Summer: A Gentle Approach

This is the time of year when the fishing is tough on the South Platte. The fish have seen a lot of flies and anglers. Flows are dropping. A gentle, patient approach is needed.

A common mistake I see among beginners is making weeping over powered hook sets and trying to force the fish in. We need to tone it down and use a gentler approach. We need to make the most of the few opportunities we might be given.

Sometimes we need some common sense. The fish are in the river, in their home feeding on tiny midges and  mayflies. Remind yourself how small the flies are, so you do not use too much force. Why do we think we can yank the fish in, out of their world with 3 pound test tippet and a size 24 hook? The last thing a wild fish wants to do is come out of the river and visit with us so we can take its picture.

Therefore, we use a gentler approach. We are patient. Use gentle parachute casts that land the fly gently on the water. Or if we are using nymphing rigs we use smaller striker indicators and we try not to slap our casts. We keep our casts short and try to keep most of the thick fly line off of the water.

When fighting a fish,  we learn to go easy, go with the flow, and try to move with the fish and pick cross current angles. Too many folks dig their heals in and try to pull a fish up river,  against the currents and are then surprised when the fish breaks off. We can try to respect the fishes instinct to remain in its watery world.

We might as well make the best of each opportunity that comes our way.  If we are gentle and patient we might then be granted a brief  visit with a wild fish as its leaves its bubbly, flowing world and enters our world.

But quickly and gently revive the fish. Place it back in its world so it might not remember the visit to our overly nervous and controlling  world.

Apocalyptic Fly-Fishing: Eclipse 2017

Long before the approaching Eclipse of 2017, I have entertained apocalyptic thoughts regarding fly fishing the South Platte River. And now, as the eclipse is about to occur, my thoughts turn some-what more gloomy.

I am not referring to the end of the world. I am not crazy. But I have considered that we may be seeing the end of an era in fly fishing. I don’t know exactly when it happened or what that era was and what fly-fishing has changed into today. I cannot quite put my finger on it. I can’t quite remember.

But several things have changed.  It seems that many folks have a “bucket list” mentality of checking off various activities before they die or get too old, or the fishing goes to hell.  This feels apocalyptic to me. So the hoards come and they keep coming. Ever see the crowds at Deckers, or 11 mile canyon on even a winter day? Or what about the crowds on the Dream Stream during the Spring or Fall spawning runs?

Maybe it is all the social media hype of posting fish all over the internet where it now seems more important for people to post their claim and accomplishment rather than experience it. Perhaps this virtual reality is all that matters now and the true experience and laboring process of casting alone on a river has suffered an apocalyptic death. All that matters is the picture posted. Forget the actual experience and process.

Maybe it was all the guiding. Norman Maclean in “A River Runs Through It” quoted his Father as saying that no one who did not know how to fish should be able to disgrace a fish by catching it. I know as a guide I often take someone who does not know how to fish, to catch fish. I’m not saying they need me to make catching fish possible but, rather it is that now many people are not willing to even try on their own. But they are willing to throw substantial money at making certain they catch a fish without really doing the work.

Perhaps we are seeing the death of an era; a time when it was an honor to explore a river by oneself, put in the hours and hours and perhaps catch nothing.  Sometimes at the end of all those hours, days, and weeks, finally, we might catch “some-thing,” and that fish was caught by our own doing which made it quite special.

To me it sometimes feels apocalyptic watching the swarms of people looking for one fish as though we are starving. Of course, this is not truly apocalyptic. I don’t think anyone among fly fishers is starving. But perhaps, with these kinds of crowds, we have seen the end of everything we once thought was wild and free and pure about fly fishing.  

Fly fishing has sadly become overly commercialized and economized, and has sank into a virtual reality. Even the fish do not seem wild anymore. The banks are overrun with people. The anglers argue with one another. It feels combative and apocalyptic.  The wild west of Colorado has died.

Not sure we will be able to rise out of those depths. All I can do is remember what it once was, and perhaps when this eclipse clears, the sun will shine brightly on what we have become and what fly fishing truly means for each one of us.  

Dream Stream

Big Water-Big Fish at Deckers

Take Me to Some Wider Place: Dream Stream

Deckers and 11 Mile Canyon often feel too confined, noisy, busy and crowded. Yes, these tail-waters fish well but after a while I prefer the empty spaces of South Park and the meandering Dream Stream.

The Dream Stream is tough to fish but at least I can breathe and expand my lungs in a wider place. Yesterday morning we viewed a beautiful rainbow, not in the net, but intensely displayed  across the sky. Three of us reached for phones and cameras but none of us could snap a picture. Batteries dead.

Perhaps that is how it is to fish the Dream Stream. Always chasing phantoms and never certain of what we saw or what pulls on the line as few of the big fish are ever landed. Often we have no proof of what we hooked into, of what we dreamed of holding in our hands or what we viewed in South Park's magnificent sky.

Letting A Kid Fish: Nice Brown Takes RS2 on Dream Stream

When I taught in school I was aware of how I often told kids the answer. I did the work for them. Why let a kid ponder and hang in frustration? Just tell them what you want them to do or know.

When I gave into that feeling and told a kid the answer I quickly became aware that I had cheated the kid of a learning experience. In fact, it felt like I was stealing the experience by robbing the child of a unique opportunity.

The same thing can happen in guiding. I can just take the rod and try to hook a fish for the youngster. But what does that achieve? It seems that as a culture we are so afraid to have children not "succeed," or figure out things on their own. God forbid if we let a child struggle alone!

But on this day guiding, I had made a choice to let Caiman cast on his own. He was fishing a deep run with big submerged boulders on the top of the run. The fishing was tough with nothing to show for our efforts. Then, on his own Caiman decided to cast in between the boulders which allowed the fly a deeper and longer drift.

A nice Brown was waiting on the bottom for the little nymph. Caiman rather calmly said to me, "I have a fish." I walked down just in time to see the large brown launch itself out of the water. I said, "You sure do have a fish. And it is big. Let it run!"

Caiman, then had to chase the fish down river holding the rod high letting it run when it surged and reeling in line when it was coming at him or just "dogging" it.

It was a great battle that Caiman won. He stood victorious on his own two feet.

Dream Stream Spotted Brown Trout

The fishing on the Dream has been tough lately but for those willing to put in the time and effort there are rewards such as this nice Brown my friend Kyle caught today. Nice fish Kyle! Great effort and patience!

What Lies Under the Mist at Deckers, South Platte RIver

What lies under the mist? Golden Browns and Glimmering Rainbows.

Fly Fishing in Widening Orbits

Rilke says, "I live my life in widening orbits." I often think of these words when I take folks fishing on a guided trip and are willing to try something new. 

Jim told me that he had been fly fishing for only two years and it was mainly all in the upper 1/4 mile of 11 mile canyon. This is a common tendency when we start off with a new sport; We tend to go back to what is familiar. I don't think there is anything wrong with this approach. Even a 1/4 mile stretch of river can have an infinite array of  complexities and dynamics. Yet, there comes a time to broaden our horizons and challenge ourselves in new ways.

Therefore I suggested the South Platte at Deckers. Jim's good friend could not make it on this trip but his daughter came along. Lauren had only fished a few times for stocked trout in a pond which to her was not the "real thing." But here she was also trying to broaden her horizons; or living life in widening orbits, as she  maneuvered herself among the rocks in the river.

Deckers is the real thing. A good size river (currently with a high flow of 450 CFS) with complex currents, seam lines, pools, riffles and runs. When Jim looked at the river he said to me, "Good call Anthony; glad we came here." I was almost jealous of Jim; relatively new to the sport of the fly fishing and how he has all this new water in front of him to explore. And more just down stream or upstream. Miles and miles of river he has never stepped a  foot in or cast a fly in.  I told him he would some time need to venture into Cheesman Canyon; 3 miles of catch and release water, access by trail only. Wow! We have some options on the South Platte.

So we started nymph fishing. I offered my standard patterns; a brown San Juan Worm and a black or gray RS2 in black or gray (size 24). And the fish responded. We had a good number of hookups. Lost a lot to the heavy water but also were able to move some good fish to the net.

Jim and Lauren had widened their orbits.

Trout at Deckers Like High Water

Mike and Sidney fly fishing for trout at Deckers Co. for the first time. The trout are liking the high flows and large fish can be spotted moving around in the new waters. Tricos rise and fall,  but the trout largely remain  low, feeding on the drowned spinners. PMD's and caddis are also emerging.

Nice Brown Caught at Deckers South Platte River On Size 24 Trico Dry

It takes some skill to entice a big Brown to take a tiny fly off the surface and tactfulness to land it with a size 24 trico imitation.

Fifteen Year Old Lands Nice Rainbow in Eleven Mile Canyon

12 Year Old First Time Fly Fisher Steps Up for The Dry Fly Challenge

Most often when I guide I get the client to nymph fish with a strike indicator. This is generally easier. But sometimes when we get to the South Platte River the fish are rising already and we have to play their game. So, we dry fly fish.

Not only has Nicolas never dry fly fish but he never fly fished before. In fact he never had caught a fish. But here he was casting tiny dry flies to some of the most selective fish in the country. He was using a size 24 Trico imitation among the thousands of Trico Mayfly's.  The fish were rising all around.

He stepped up and made his casts. He made adjustments. He problem solved. He strained to see both 

the fly and the fish. But he figured it out and he caught some beautiful trout.

Great fishing Nicolas !