Dealing With Fly Fishing Expectations: Sometimes the Treasure Is Not Where You Think

On  the way back from the Grand Canyon we made a southerly loop back home passing through Farmington New Mexico to the San Juan River below Navajo. This trip, and this stop on the Juan in particular was a gracious retirement gift from my wife. My wife was kind enough to stay at Abe's Motel in this semi arid land and not complain. She did her art work while I searched for treasure in the San Juan Navajo Dam tail-water. I fished an evening and a morning and actually caught a fair number of fish.

But it did not live up to my expectations. It had been almost 20 years since I fished the San Juan. I had great memories of this place. Perhaps that was the problem.  Maybe past memories of wonderful trout streams will always be distorted and let us down as we try to relive them.

But even allowing for this unfair distortion there were a few glaring problems. Crowds.  The crowds spread out quickly and cover these waters like an army invasion. I could not get in the type of water I wanted to fish and then when I wanted to move I couldn’t because there was no where to go that was not already occupied. I could not move about and stalk fish. I had to stay in one place and keep casting over the same fish. Not fun for me. Not my style.

And the fish seemed tame. The fish seemed tired.  It was not that the fish were so ultra selective and ‘smart’  from being "educated"(as fly fishermen are fond of bragging about and how smart their fish are)  as much as they just seemed harassed and stressed from being hooked time and time again.

The treasure I was hoping to find on the Juan eluded me. I left feeling kind of flat about the whole experience.

So, we left the San Juan and headed to Pagosa Springs to soak in the springs. We had done a quite a bit of running in the Grand Canyon so our aching legs would find the hot mineral waters to be comforting.

In the back of my mind I was vaguely aware of a lake just outside of Pagosa called Hatcher. But fishing Hatcher was mainly an after thought. A long shot.  To fish the lake I had to buy a day permit. There was some confusion (and in my frustration I almost gave up), on where to get this permit but after some running around town, a few wild goose chases, I finally obtained the permit. Repairs to the main road to the lake resulted in a detour and more driving around. There was that feeling of being lost and of just wanting to give up and that nagging sense of, “Why bother”?   But we finally found the lake.

It was a beautiful lake. No one was fishing it which was nice but it made me suspicious. Maybe there had been a bad winter kill.  I walked up to the edge not knowing what to expect and immediately sighted a 22 inch rainbow cruising along a weed bed.  Wow!  I quickly and clumsily tried to rig my rod to make a cast but of course I could not get ready in time. It didn’t matter. Hopefully, there would be others.

And there were. Big fat rainbows. I casted an Amy’s Ant to sighted fish as I walked the shore line. I was doing what I loved best. Stalking fish. Peering into clear water. Moving along the edge of the shore line. I was 

all alone.  A solitary hunter. I climbed a small ridge to get a better view of feeding fish that might be in my casting range.

I had to make long casts to reach the fish (none of that catching fish "off the tip of your rod" stuff). And when I put the fly in front of them they took the fly and leaped wildly pealing off line as they headed across the lake. Anything, but tame.Anything but tired.

I had found the treasure I was looking for and it was not where I had expected it to be.

Eleven Mile Canyon Fly Fishing Report 6/5/2014

I took several gentlemen to Eleven Mile Canyon and had a wonderful day in the upper canyon. The usual flies worked such as San Juan worms and a variety of midges. The sparkle wing RS2 produced along with zebra midges and black beauties. The surprise fly however was an orange "Desert Storm" size 22-24.

6/2/2014 South Platte River Fly Fishing Report

Eleven Mile Canyon: Lots of fish and lots of people.. Mainly feeding sub surface on annelids and midges which means the usual flies; San Juan worms and tiny midge larvae and pupa. As is often the case sight fishing makes all the difference. Best is yet to come with caddis and tricos just around the corner creating some of the best dry fly fishing anywhere. Stable flows.

Deckers: Fewer fish but bigger. But even more crowded. Not sure how Deckers will hold up to this kind of pressure. Hard to find good water on weekends.  Best flies are San Juan worms and gray sparkle wing RS2;s . My friend Steve has been taking some nice fish on a size 4 Crane Fly larvae. Kind of fun to use a big fly.  Some surface feeding on BWO’s. Flows have been somewhat erratic.

Dream Stream: A scattering of respectable fish.  I caught threw nice Browns in 30 minutes and a nice rainbow on a San Juan worm and a RS2.  I would love to see a massive effort in the  restocking of this section. Why not dump several thousand fish in this section during the summer months? The fish do not seem to be reproducing on their own. Populations have been low for at least a decade now. Time to try something.  We have some beautiful habitat improvement done on this section. Beautiful water.But it just needs more fish.

5/24/2014 Women's Fly Fishing Poetry Retreat

Commitment To a Mystery: Faith and Fly Fishing

There is much I do not understand about fly fishing and faith. 

I think we are correct to speak of what we do not understand as mystery. Better to admit what we do not understand. Better to ask the difficult questions. Why speak in absolutes if we do not understand? Why pretend?

Yet, even without understanding, there does come a time when I believe I must commit. I have enough information. I know enough even if most of what I know is simply that I do not know. It is still enough.

At some point I simply feel accountable to respond. I don’t think I should wait around for my rational mind to understand. Not going to happen. Enough has been revealed from a single sunrise on a river or the rise of a trout.

Faith will always to some degree require a leap of faith. So, does fly fishing. At some point we know enough and we cast. We cast to the depths and leap into a mystery.

I don’t have to know everything. In fact, I don’t have to understand very much at all. Perhaps all I need to know and understand is that I am accountable to respond. When I first started fly fishing I did not understand much at all but I responded.

This is my conclusion after decades of perceiving God as a mystery. I am quite certain that I will spend the rest of my life perceiving God as mystery. I may never purely understand a thing about the nature of God.

But I can still leap. I can still commit. I don’t’ leap or commit to understand.  I leap because it is the only true response.

An appropriate reverence.

Mens Fly Fishing Retreat:2014 What is Spiritual About Fly Fishing?

What an interesting meaningful time together. Men getting together to fly fish and  talk about the deeper aspects of life and fly fishing.

After catching some nice rainbow trout, eating dinner, we gathered around a warm fire to consider the question. What can be spiritual about fly fishing?

I would call the discussion authentic and honest. Rather than what I would call “lofty”. We spoke of things with humility and uncertainty. We spoke of possibilities.

We spoke of the beautiful peaceful places that fly fishing often brings us to. How do we respond to the beauty and mystery of creation?

We spoke of how the rhythm of casting and the intense focus on the fly with the fish in pursuit can be experienced as a type of meditation.

We spoke of “connection”. The connection to something larger than ourselves and yet when done with others, a deeper connection to one another.

We spoke of being part of natural cycles. Insect hatches and their cycles. The seasons of a river.

We spoke of water. Flowing water. Baptism. Repentance.

We spoke of “calling”. Can a man be called to wilderness? To a river?  To a lake?

We spoke of spiritual rites of passage and considered if fly fishing could be a component.

We also spoke of the possibility that all our thoughts could merely be wishful thinking. Nothing but projections mislead by emotion.  We had to consider that maybe there is  nothing spiritual about fly fishing. But in doing so we are have to also consider the possibility that perhaps there is something spiritual about all fly fishing and all of life for that matter.

My own conclusion: There is some thing.

Something happened at that little pond in northern New Jersey where I made my first casts to large fish below the surface. Often alone away from the mainstream. On an edge.   Feeling protected and enclosed by the hillsides covered with lush trees that surrounded the small lake I fished. 

Yet, lost in some sense. Perhaps found. And that is something.

God Knows: Looking Back at One's Work as a Fly Fishing Guide, Teacher and Counselor

Sometimes I try to evaluate my life, my work as a teacher, counselor and fly fishing guide. Perhaps like most, I want my life to have mattered.  I wonder if it has all been in vain or did my work accomplish some purpose? Perhaps I brought some new meaning to someone. Perhaps I helped someone catch their first fish on a fly or helped someone catch the largest trout ever. Or, perhaps some in-depth conversation left some one pondering for years. Or, maybe a story I told children lingers in the heart of a young person for decades to come.

Strangely, it is not as though I have not received some feed back in regard to these questions I ponder. Some times, I run into former students and fishing clients.  Some times meaningful memories and stories are shared. There have been personal thank you letters.  There have been guide trips and field trips with both kids and adults when they expressed, “This was the most exciting moment of my life”, or “You were the best teacher/guide ever”, or, “This was by far the best I ever did fly fishing”. Sometimes I felt if even in the smallest way as though I was partially responsible for those positive experiences.  

But on most days, in spite of this feedback I do not feel so highly of myself. My conclusion to my own self evaluation tends to lean toward not feeling very adequate. Most often it feels as though my life and work did not matter, that I was quite dispensable,  which in the big scheme of things is probably closer to the truth. Perhaps I am being hard on myself.  Maybe, not. Probably not.  Who knows?

It is only most recently that I am finding some comfort in letting go of my self worth  based on my own self evaluation because the only truthful answer to the question, “Who knows”? is God.  God is the only one who knows. God knows the truth. God knows and that is something. It is enough. It has to be enough.

This may sound terribly simplistic.  And I tend to dislike simplistic thinking. But there is something powerful and satisfying in the truth, “God knows”.  I can let it be. I can let it go. I can let go of any evaluation of my life.  In fact, perhaps the truth is that there is no other way to let it go.  To not let it go would be to forever try to please others spinning on some hamster wheel. 

So, it does not really matter how much I think I have helped people or how many lives I think I may have made a difference in. At the same time it also does not really matter how much I think I messed up or how many failures I think I made in not reaching people. Maybe it doesn’t matter how I feel I failed in counseling people or in helping people catch fish.  Maybe at times I was the worst guide/teacher/counselor and perhaps other times I was the best. Who knows?

In the end, my own assessments of who I am do not really matter. Only God knows the truth about how I have lived my life.  And that is enough to escape the judgment of others  and more importantly, of myself. That is all that really matters.

God only knows.