When I was a kid learning to fly fish I never really paid attention to how many fish I caught. With out knowing it at the time I had learned to value the process; the journey that some times led to the actual catching of a fish. Each fish I caught was the result of a long process of trial and error relying totally on my own resources and that process was reward enough. It was the process that was most fulfilling and what made me love fly fishing. It would not be too much for me to call the process sacred and it is a process that I have valued ever since.
As a guide of 25 years I often think about that sacred process of learning to fly fish and I wonder how well I am able to honor the process, for myself and for my clients. When I feel overly caught up in the pressure to put fish in the net for a client I know I am not doing a good job of honoring the process. I can usually sense when I am “riding” the client hard almost demanding he catch a fish (or let me catch the fish for him!). When I am in such a state of mind it is more about me and my ego than about the client. And I forget to value the process.
Do not misunderstand me. I know some “success” (fish landed) is needed and expected on a guided fly fishing trip. Clients pay good money and often have some kind of expectation. And while guiding I work my hardest and use all the knowledge I have gained over 40 years of fly fishing to help my clients have the best day of fishing possible. And hopefully that includes catching fish.
All guides have their tricks, their short cuts, their “efficient” means to increase the odds of the client catching as many fish as possible. I have my own. But, some times these short cuts can cheat the client out of experiencing the process without even knowing it. When I reflect upon my own learning experience in fly fishing, I think the greatest lesson I could give my client would be to encourage him to value the process for himself. It is in the journey where one will find the greatest fulfillment. To honor the process means, among other things, to have a sense that an individual achieved the task more or less on his own. To honor the process of fly fishing means to learn how to read the water, observe fish behavior, pay attention to bugs, plan strategies and many other dynamics. And these things all take time. It is problem solving. It is the soul of fly fishing. .
At some point both fly fishers and guides, have to realize the folly of thinking one has to catch a certain number of fish in order to feel successful. We would do better to honor the process, the soul of fly fishing. We might want to consider an old teaching, “What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world (or every fish in the river) and yet loses his soul.”? In a society that can be quite soulless and focused on immediate gratification, this is a question that we may want to ponder.
Of course there really is not a correct answer to the question of how many fish we need to catch. It is completely arbitrary. But over the years I tend to think that the best fly fishers and the most mature soulful human beings are those who can feel good about themselves catching fewer and fewer fish. It is a paradox of sorts, but not really because the greatest reward is always somewhere else perhaps even hidden. These are the fly fishers who will gladly shake a fish free and not even land the fish. I know when I am guiding and a fish shakes the hook out of its mouth right before being netted I usually say something like, “Better on the fish” or “long distance release” and most often both I and the client understand the meaninglessness of counting fish netted.
There are many good reasons we might find reward in catching fewer fish or at least not worrying about catching a certain number. Relentless pressure on our quality ‘catch and release’ waters comes to mind immediately. It is clear that the constant catching and releasing of fish results in a decline in vitality of the fish populations. Again, the question begs to be answered. How many fish do we really need to catch on a given day? When do we stop? When is enough ‘enough?’ And when it comes to guiding the question becomes: How many fish does the guide need to net before he feels good about himself and he feels that his client has gotten his monies worth? I think each individual, both guides and fly fishers have to set some kind of “inner limit” to their fishing. Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to have had many wonderful clients when after they caught, hooked and battled fish (no need to say how many) simply knew when it was time to stop even though the fish were still rising and more could be caught. They would simply say, “That is enough. Let’s end on a good note” or we might even end on a fish that got away.
Other factors that can be a variable in this meaningless number of fish caught would be the techniques used and the type of water fished. Obviously, most beginners usually can catch more fish nymphing than dry fly fishing. Does this make the fly fisher fishing with nymphs “better” than the one fishing with drys’ because more fish were landed ? Of course not, I have guided many folks who catch a lot of fish nymphing but would struggle to catch one fish on a slow moving stretch of water on a tiny dry. On the South Platte I often say, “One caught on a dry is equal to 10 caught on a nymph”. I personally, on many occasions have stalked one large fish all morning making countless changes in my presentation and fly selection. The fish finally takes the fly and after battling the fish for several minutes breaks free. Was such a long stalking process a success or a failure? In such situations success and failure are hard to define. In fact, I think many things in life, including fly fishing, are learned by a series of “failures” in which we learn and this learning is part of the wonderful journey of fly fishing.
As a guide, perhaps honoring the process can mean several different things even if it results in fewer fish in the net. It can mean allowing the client to figure out certain aspects of the process on his own. It can mean giving the client some alone time for trial and error. It can mean allowing the client to problem solve on their own and make those micro adjustments that are often needed to get the fish to take the fly. It can mean allowing the client to select his own fly to tie on the leader. It can mean allowing the client to dry fly fish even though most often we know this is far more challenging. It can mean allowing the client to “fail” and laugh at himself and yet learn.
In essence, it can mean allowing the client to be the most important person in the process rather than the guide. Of course a guide needs to “guide” but perhaps we need to rethink what this means. When we allow the client to honor the process by making him aware that it is his process then something wonderful can happen. If the client can truly perceive that he achieved this process more or less on his own, then that process becomes sacred to him. And every single fish, even if it is only one, becomes sacred. . .
Even if it is the one that got away.
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