Decker's South Platte Fish Rising into Fall

Fish are rising in the Deckers area up and down the river. Fish are rising to some late tricos, PMD's BWO's, and midges. Drifts must be perfect. Hook sets must be timed perfectly and gently.

What River Is This?

This is the lower Frying Pan River several miles above the town of Basalt.

The Fish that Got Away From Us.

There was one fish that got away; a marvelous fish that will forever haunt me. I had it in reach but did not understand or properly calculate its movements or the depth of what it was thinking and feeling. If only;  if only the fish had not moved toward the rocks and the chute of no return, I may have had a chance.  There were so many what if’s.

I misjudged the infinite distance between us, even as I felt close. All I know now is that it can never return up the Chute to the place I once casted my line.  There can be no re-do’s or second casts.

The fish and the river cascades on down the canyon as I stand watching and asking the same hard questions over and over again;  as I will this Fall,  and winter, and Spring.

Finding Fish at Deckers.

Opening Windows in the Summer Doldrums

During the summer doldrums it can be tough to find fish.  I try to remind myself that the fish are there (and were there all along).  But we need a window. Through that window we break through and  meet each other.

San Juan worms, RS2's (gray and black) are all taking fish up and down the South Platte at Deckers.

Enjoy the view.

A Different Flow

There are certain drifts that a fly fisher senses might produce a fish. It is difficult to explain.

There are also different people that seem more in tune with a different flow of life. Such people are unique individuals of a different consciousness.

Here are two individuals who at least for a brief time on the South Platte entered a different flow.

Stepping Back on the Banks of The Dream

Stepping back has its advantages. While guiding, standing back on the bank allows me to allow the client to figure out some things on their own. However, if I am right next to  them I tend to slap their hands off the reel,  or help them lift the rod, and I do a lot of yelling such as "Let go" or, "Reel, reel, reel." But if I am back on the bank, I can let them make the call. They are the captain. They are quarterbacking the play. They have to figure it out.  And it is fun to watch. Often I can see the large dark form darting under the surface and I can estimate the size. Sometimes we net the fish but often we do not. All is fun. All is play. We learn. We learn again and again.

Some Solid Fish on the Dream

A Few Snapshots from this Past Week of Fishing

It is a bit strange, but mostly we have been catching fish on tiny stuff. Size 24-26 midges, black beauties and RS2's. But then with the bump in the flows, the old brown San Juan Worm has been working again. I guess we fish it all and hope for the best.

                                       

Advanced Fly Fishing Techniques for Living Life

I guess I might know a few advanced techniques for catching trout with a fly. But when it comes to living life at an advanced level, I struggle. I often have to go back to the basics and ask myself why I am here.  Why am I on the river? What is my goal and purpose?  Of course we all want to catch fish. That is a given. But I often miss the real reason.

I learn from my "beginner" clients. Most often they too want to catch fish but somehow for them,  they seem more mature than I,  and are content to just be on the river. I almost counter them, "Oh no, you can't just be happy being here,  you have to catch fish." As I said, I am not very advanced. My clients often are more advanced than I. I am just a beginner.

It is ironic that often when I leave my clients alone, that is when they will catch a fish. Yesterday I was guiding a wonderful couple. Mark had caught 7 fish but Diane had not put a fish in the net yet. I went to get some thing from my truck, and of course I look back and Diane is fighting a fish, and Mark nets the fish for her. Great guiding on my part hey??? !!!

Or last week there was Kat, Joleen and Matt. Joleen hooked five fish in the first 15 minutes and I was no where near her. Kat hooked several. Matt lost a few. We netted fish and lost fish. Everyone caught fish, but I am not sure how much the hooking really mattered. Nor am I sure how much I was needed!!! Sometimes I feel I am more just "in the way" of something greater that is trying to happen.  

I don't know. I guess we can all try too hard  sometimes and miss the point. We can miss the greater lesson in life, why we are here,  and even the opportunity to net the fish.

I remain ignorant. I offer no advice. I am still a beginner. 

Deckers: Sometimes Someone Catches so Many Fish it is not Proper to Talk About It.

Big Fish-Small Pond

The saying "A big fish in a small pond" means  that I might think I am a big deal out in the world but my influence is actually quite small.  In other words, in spite of what I might think about myself, the reality is that I may only impact the small fish in my own small pond.   

I think deep down most of us want to feel that we are important to people,  or at least a certain group of people. We want to know we matter.  We want to know we are relevant. It is quite painful to admit that perhaps we only matter to a few loved ones, if even that.

The culture does not help. It is tough to be as popular as the culture demands. We constantly see people in the spot light and often not for honorable reasons. Or, some so called "stars" are just good at promoting themselves and elevating themselves to stardom.

Charles Bukowski in his poem titled, "The Secret" says that "nobody has the strange and hidden power, nobody is exceptional or wonderful or magic, they only seem to be."  He goes on to imply that it is all a show and an illusion.

Perhaps I am uncomfortable that I have not rocked my world. I often feel irrelevant and that I have not even rocked the small world  

of my small pond.

Only once in a while, a big fish enters the small world of my life, and provides a special kind of solitary solace. 

With Whom Do We Fish?

With whom do I fish and why?

Sometimes I ask myself this question and try to answer?  I think when I fish, I am often seeking connection to more than the fish I cast upon. Among other things, I seek connection with a fellow angler.

Of course sometimes it nothing more than wanting to share the river, its fish, and the whole experience with another soul.  To share a beautiful place with another person allows me to not feel so isolated. Therefore, I seek someone to whom I can fish and enjoy an outing together.

It can also just be fun to tease someone for not being able to catch a fish. Or sometimes it is I who cannot hook up, like an awkward teenager casting to the girls at school and there is nothing but rejection.  Together, with others,  it is easier to laugh at being rejected. And as many of us know who fish the South Platte, rejection comes often. So we learn to laugh at one another and ourselves.

Yet, sometimes it is “Something” more.  For me, it can be about sharing with another the struggle of life. What struggle someone might ask? What are you talking about?

Well, that is a difficult question to answer. I think many of us, “just know” what I am talking about whether we admit it or not.  However, I don’t believe I am talking about the glorious, joyful, blessed life of being a Christian and fishing in God’s creation as some profess. No, this is Something deeper and darker like the deep pool we fish but never see the bottom and we can never seem to entice the large, melancholy fish laying on the bottom.

My friends and many people I meet on the river are surprised to hear me speak of melancholy and a struggle in life. “Struggle” they say; “Do you know you have it made? Do you know how lucky you are?  Do you know you are living the dream?”  

“Yes” I reply.   “I know, but I still struggle.”

We make another thousand casts.

And sometimes, with a peculiar joy in our hearts, we connect, and the melancholy fish rises to meet us.

It is with such people who know Something of both melancholy and joy who I enjoy fishing with the most and connect at the deepest level of struggle, even trying to catch the large rainbow on the bottom of a deep pool and trying to believe. 

A Big Amy's Ant Rainbow

I caught a big rainbow on an Amy’s Ant dry fly.

My wife’s name is Amy and I am Anthony, but people back in Jersey would call me “Ant” so when we put those two names together we get an “Amy’s Ant.”  

Sometimes ‘Amy’s Ant’, that is Anthony, (using the Amy’s Ant) catches a big fish. 

When  I report to my wife that I caught a big fish on an “Amy’s Ant” she tries to take some credit for the fish.  She thinks it is her fly by name (which it is not) or that I am her Ant, which I guess, is somewhat true.

But what a catch (I mean Amy!), even if she knows nothing about fly fishing. 

A Fine Morning Fly Fishing at Deckers

I guided at Deckers yesterday with good friend and fellow guide Steve Gossage.  The clients were easy going and respectful individuals. They caught fish and Steve and I were please with how the morning unfolded. We even felt like respectable guides; we did our job. I complimented Steve, and he complimented me.

Yet, like any number of other guide trips there was something else beneath the waters we fished that forever lurks.  If I told you only about each beautiful fish we caught, the flies and techniques we used, we might just pass over this something else.  I usually refer to this “Something else” as a “God-thing” or a presence of sorts that we might perceive in nature. I guess you can call it whatever you want but I think it is important that we pay attention to it.

Lately, for me, I relate this awareness of Something else to the struggle of life. This is the struggle to maintain faith; to believe in Something bigger than oneself.  It is not about success. It is not about numbers or size of fish. There will never be enough fish or a fish big enough.  Knowing this truth is part of our faith journey and keeps us in the struggle of faith rather than above it. The fish we hooked struggled to remain low in their watery world, as we skillfully struggled, to bring the fish into our world. This is rather strange and symbolic of some bigger struggle and ultimate desire.  

Yesterday the crowds arrived on the river. This too is part of the struggle. There are many good anglers and guides on the river these days. It is easy to compare ourselves with one another, and on certain days to even try to place myself on “top”, but such comparisons are useless.

I am trying rather to remain low below the surface, in the struggle of life. I would rather remain in the Something else, even if that places me on the bottom, where the fish repeatedly engulfed our nymphs.

My Little Story Merging With A Bigger Story: Bringing Back Eden

It was strange how when I was writing my personal story of becoming a fly fisher, I perceived a "Bigger" story trying to merge/emerge with my story. This is a rather bold claim, but I could not deny that the bigger story was at least periodically raising its head, like a sipping trout revealing itself to me.

When I re-told the story of being a boy learning to fly fish a pond I could not but help feel "Something" reminding me of the bigger story of a people wandering in the wilderness looking for the promised land. Is this the story of stories that forms the fabric and foundation of all our personal stories? Was I called to that little valley in New Jersey to learn of a new life?  Was I invited there to experience something of Eden? These are some of the questions I tried to address in "Bringing Back Eden." 

Such connections to a bigger story ground me and allow me to hope. However if we are going to look at more of the big story, then we are going to have to consider, that at least for some of our life, we will wander and feel lost. The big story in the Biblical narrative states quite clearly that we are in exile, wandering like aliens in a foreign land, awaiting a new kingdom. 

Do we feel this alienation? 

Learning From Writing My Own Story

I learned a lot from writing my own fishing story titled Bringing Back Eden. I think it was worth the effort, even if not many read it.   

It took courage to put my thoughts down on paper. It took more courage to commit to placing those innermost thoughts into a book. It was humbling to consider the fact that most people would not want to read it, yet even more humbling that some people did read it and connected to my story.  

Soren Kierkegaard said “The crucial thing is to find a truth, to find an idea for which I am willing to live and die.” I have to get to the place where I hold to my ideas, my truth, and be willing to “die” for that truth.  If I take his comment symbolically it seems I have to be willing to believe in my own life story, my own ideas, even if it does not bring status or financial gain or so called “happiness”. This is not easy to do in a culture that highly values status, financial gain, and happiness.

When I first started writing people asked me, “Who is your audience? Who are you writing for? ” but, I could not respond. I could not answer. I just wrote what I had to say. I stuck to my truth.  And I knew I could not please everyone. In fact I knew I could perhaps only please a few, if anyone.  

I knew many of my Christian friends might be offended by my comments about the church.  I came right out and said I believe, in many cases, we would be better off on the river than being in church on Sunday morning.  I complained that often church is the last place to go with one’s own serious questions and struggle regarding the faith.  And God forbid if I disagreed with what was going on in church or what was being spoken. Could I dare raise my hand and politely share my truth?

At the same time I knew I could not please those who had little spiritual interest or commitment and who only wanted to know how to catch more and bigger fish. They might find all my “God talk” offensive. They might think I am crazy talking about loneliness, struggling to belong and the possibility of  a comforting angel.

My story presents Something in between these two poles. Somewhere in the middle of the river lies a large beautiful mysterious fish. The fish surfaces now and then but just as often, quickly vanishes. I think I see it but I am not sure. I have some skills but they are limited and the cast must be placed on a narrow seam line.

And sometimes I contemplate the amazing possibility if God, in some small way might help me bring a fish into my cluttered vision;  help me make a cast that brings that fish to my fly, and then, eventually into my hands that always grasp too tightly. 

This is an idea, a truth, for which I am willing, symbolically speaking, to die for.