The Mountains need snow. We need the water, and of course, so do the fish.
However, besides these basic needs, I think we also need the snow to block our way to the river. The banks need healing along with the fish. We have left our scars upon the land and the fish themselves.
Can I help it that I secretly wish for storms so heavy with snow that they deny us access to the river? Perhaps heavy snow is the only way to keep us out. Let the river, the fish and the land heal.
Am I being too dramatic? Who has not seen in years past when sections of river were temporarily closed to fishing because of high water or threat of fire, how wonderful the fishing was when it reopened? With no closures in sight, I can only hope for heavy snow. I hope the snow falls and denies us access for a day or two. Or, maybe a week. Any break might help heal the scars.
Who has not seen the scars on the fish; the broken off flies in their mouths, and their tired response when hooked? Have we not seen every day and all day long the relentless pounding of our favorite holes?
How many times can a fish be hooked, its feeding cycles interrupted, and still thrive (or even survive?).
I doubt the D.O.W., park service or the national forest agencies would ever propose rest periods for the fish by periodically closing sections of river. I doubt fly shops could collaborate and agree to limit guiding or fishing on our most popular sections of river. Could the fly fishing community ever agree to fish less?
How could I, as a lover of fly-fishing, during a 60 degree winter day, deny myself the urge to fish? Or, how could I not cast to a 30 inch fish that has moved up from a lake during the fall and Spring migrations?
Therefore, come heavy snow and cover the river, the trails, and the roads. Deny me access if only for a day. If no one else is going to stop me perhaps nature will try with a hefty snow storm.
Heal the damage I have done. Heal the damage that we have all down. Heal Eden.
Heal my own heart.
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