Solitude on the Arkansas

My friend Steve in solitude on the "real" Ark.  Steve calls the middle/upper Arkansas River the "real" Ark as opposed to the busy tail-water lower down. For many of us fly fishers, fly fishing is about solitude (at least some of the time), which has become more and more a rare experience on our popular local tail- waters. Steve found solitude and some nice fish in the low clear water.

Florida Bass Pond

   On my 58th birthday I fly fished a bass pond in Florida and caught several nice fish. I felt like a 11 year old kid again, back at the pond of New Jersey. 

Is the Dream Stream Half Empty or Half Full?

There is that old question: Is the glass half empty or half full? Of course many people think we should see and experience life positively as being half full.  I am not so sure.  I relate this old proverbial phrase to the South Platte River; Is the Dream Stream half empty or half full?

I like to think about all the nice fish I have caught over the years on the Dream Stream.  I try not to lament too much about the good old days. However there does seem to be wisdom in looking back. It was Soren Kierkegaard who said, “Life can only be understood backwards but must be lived forwards.”  

I often think backwards and remember and try to understand.  I remember all the fish.  Therefore, I prefer to now state, it is half empty? I also prefer to ask why is it half empty?  What went wrong?  As I look forward, I consider if anything can be done?

However, if I focus on the river being half full (by continually claiming how great it is supposedly fishing), I may never imagine what it was like or what it could be in the future.  I may never imagine how full of fish it could be if we could see how empty it is and what it needs. We need to see and feel the emptiness.

How can I live forwards?  Can we Imagine how full of fish the Dream Stream could be if we . . .

Then even I, who most often sees the glass half empty, could see it being half full.

Does anyone have any suggestions on how we could make the river, genuinely half full again?

Just Observing: What Happened to Winter?

Coming back from Breckenridge over Hosier Pass I noticed runoff already coming down the north side. Water was racing down the side of the road and filling the Blue River. BRK ski area seemed a bit soft for this time of year. Ski conditions are marginal at best.

 I don't know my facts about weather and snow pack and average temperatures but it seemed odd. This is the middle of winter! Nor do I care to debate it especially with each side already having their feet encased in cement; or ice; or slush. 

Eleven Mile Reservoir has a lot of open water.  Some anglers are seeing big fish cruzing the edges. And of course the migration of big rainbows up into the Dream Stream has been underway for some time now. The crowds are pounding the river. 

It might just be an odd year. Or a new pattern. I do not know.

As an angler, I have my concerns. Some of my friends have their concerns about future water flows for the South Platte.

This morning, I gain a little bit of comfort seeing an inch or so of new snow on my deck in the foothills of Manitou.

I don't know. I am just observing.

Paying Attention to Something Else While Fly Fishing

When I fly fish I often pay attention only to the fish I am catching or not catching. This can get old, narrow and lifeless.

However, some of my friends I fish with help remind me there is Something else. This past week I fished with Cody, Steve and Karbo.

There are birds, bugs, sky, the different shades of light, meadows and mountains.  There are the storm clouds that try to gather over the peaks giving us hope that the Spring rains and snow will return.

There are the tiny midges trying to hatch in the cold and the fish that sluggishly try to eat them. There was the large rainbow that rose to a lone Blue Winged Olive Mayfly, but not again. There were the large rainbows and browns that took our fly but broke free.

There were our words exchanged in between casts. Words of longing and hope for a deeper richer life and for the upcoming fishing season.   These were words without complete rational understanding or expression,  yet indicating “Something” else;  Our friendships sustained in the midst of the cold currents and the dry mountain winds.

Trying too hard in Fly Fishing and In Life:

Sometimes while fly fishing I try to be perfect. I make sure I have the best fly. I rush to get the perfect hole.  I try and try and try to make perfect casts and drifts.  I try to stay focused. However, sometimes it seems I try too hard and it just does not work. I only make a mess of things. I miss something, and I do not have fun.

I find the same thing to be true in my spiritual life. I try too hard to be “good.” I try too hard to be spiritual (whatever that means?), and I only make a mess of things and I do not have fun.

There is an old Zen teaching that implies if we try really hard to be enlightened, it will take twice as long. There is also an old teaching in the Tao that asks us to abandon holiness and morality and then we might find it. 

There is the old Zen story of two monks walking along the river. On their journey they see an attractive young woman who needs help crossing the river. Without hesitation, the old monk carried her across the river and placed her down on the other side. The old monk returned to the young monk who then proceeded to question him and his "morality." They continued on their journey along the river. Every few hours the younger monk questioned the older monk's integrity asking him why he carried the woman. He just could not let it go.

Finally, the older monk says, "I placed that woman down several hours ago and have forgotten about the incident. Why do you continue to carry her this whole way"?

It seems we can try too hard and miss some greater point. 

Something to ponder the next time I spot a fish in the river (or a stranger) and I consider my approach.

Engage Something New in Fly Fishing

I search for something new in fly fishing.

I consider a new fly; a new rod, or some hole I never fished. Or some place exotic.

Perhaps I need a new technique. A new cast that allows the fly to run deep and drag free under a tricky seam line. The fish might be there and they might not.

But then I realize that what I need most is simply more of me engaged in this old sacred ritual that forever teaches me.

Fly fishing reminds me that what I need is within my heart.

To engage.