Honoring the Journey of Learning to Fly Fish

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.

Fly Fishing as a Rite of Passage

Fly fishing in the majestic beauty of nature can serve as a rite of passage for individuals to move out of one phase of life into a new one with new possibilities. A spiritual rite of passage can occur for youth (and certainly should) but also for anyone of any age who is at a place where he or she senses it is time to “move” to the next more mature stage of life.  

I have written in “Glimpses from a Childhood Pond”, that when I was a young boy, fly fishing helped me deal with the challenges of youth. I can also see how my experience at the pond served as a rite of passage placing me on a different and new path.  In looking back at that passage I get a sense that a new image was placed in my heart. It was a new image of not so much of who I was to become, but rather it seemed to show me who I would not become. I was made aware that I would not live my life following my peers but I would find my own path and follow a different ‘calling’.  

Sometimes a rite of passage can start from a “call”. Joseph Campbell had written extensively on the hero’s journey and rites of passage describing the “call” not so much as a call but, as a   “deliberate refusal of the offered terms of life”.  In other words, the individual does not hear a voice beckoning him or her to “come over here” but rather the individual perceives the stagnation of his or her life (if he or she would remain in the status quo), and intuits that it is time to move on.   In a sense the individual refuses to live in the conditions and terms of live presently offered.  And that refusal creates a vacuum that gives birth to something new which is often a new path and direction.  As the individual senses this new path forming and begins to go down that path he or she recognizes it as his or her own.  

I do believe there is valid reason for concern if the vacuum in young people is mostly filled with “stimulating” computer video games, which in my opinion do not provide a true rite of passage.  I have worked in public education for the last 28 years and having worked with many kids I get a sense that some kind of more meaningful rite of passage is needed. Perhaps fly fishing out in nature can serve as some kind of rite of passage for young people. Some schools along with organizations such as the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts provide field trips that promote camping and outdoor activities. These programs can be instrumental.  I do recognize there are problems even with these attempts. But being out in nature is at least a good starting place as it teaches kids that they are not the center of the universe and they are not in control. Trying to skillfully cast a tiny fly to a rising trout in a river current can be very humbling. The youth learns that he or she has to submit to the laws of nature. Crying and complaining do no good. Responsibility must be assumed.  The fly fisher can learn the art of patience. And then perhaps, in due time, he or she receives a well earned reward of a fish landed and yet the greatest reward was in the process it self.  

Adults likewise, at different stages of their life can benefit from a visit to the river where they can contemplate life. All too often people get stuck from the stresses of life heaped upon us from work and family. Perhaps, when the individual gets to the point of where they feel they can not take one more day of their life, it is time to say,  ‘yes,’ to the “call” to go to the mountains to fish.

Any trip to the mountains to fish can be a mini heroic journey of sorts and at the end of any heroic journey “treasure” is to be gained and brought back.  Often times the treasure can be a sense of accomplishment or some kind of wisdom that gives a person  a different perspective on life which can be shared with one’s  communities.  I hope you find such treasure for yourself.  

 “A Story Begun Near the Sound of Water”

Sometimes, certain lines from novels grab my attention. In “A River Runs Through It”, Norman Maclean, while watching the river writes, “It was here while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although of course at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun perhaps long ago near the sound of water and I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode”.  These lines grab at me.

Our lives are personal, sacred stories whether we want them to be or not and whether we are aware of it or not. Of course, most of the time while we are living life, we are not aware of the meaning and spirituality of our lives.  Like Norman, while we are fishing and working and dealing with family issues we are not aware that our stories are more like rivers than books. We are also often not aware of how our own individual life stories are connected to a bigger story of “long ago”.

I would also profess that our true spiritual lives are more like rivers than books.  On the surface it does not seem as though much is happening. We are just meandering around without a whole lot of spiritual insight or drama.  Norman said that a story had begun near the sound of water. Do we realize how subtle the sound of a river can be?  Yet, I believe the relatively quiet meandering of a river parallels our own lives and our spiritual lives. I don’t believe we can separate the two. This is what Norman meant in the opening line of the novel when he said that there was “ no clear line between religion and fly fishing”.

Between the time young Norman becomes aware that a sacred story had begun near the sound of water, to the close of the story where Norman is an old man, we see his  personal life story played out without much drama and also, particularly without much spiritual drama.  In regard to the movie and the book, many have criticized the lack of action or plot. This is not a great drama. Things just meander around like a river. The person who might be looking for action and excitement would be bored out of their minds with this story. Yet, is this not the way we experience our true spiritual lives ?  If we are honest, we do a lot of waiting and while we are waiting, not much seems to be happening. It is this inactivity of this story that I think we precisely need to embrace.

Even in the tragedy of Norman’s brother Paul being killed, we want those who remain perplexed in suffering to hear from God.  We want some reason or explanation to be given. But in this story it seems that this family waits in the vast silence of God. The Maclean family asks questions but do not receive answers. The Reverend Maclean struggled with the loss of his son and why he could not reach him.  He kept asking Norman, “Do you think I could have helped him”?  “Are you sure you told me everything”?  “Is there anything else”?   Norman finally had to say, “All I really knew about Paul was that he was a fine fly fisherman”.

I find this honest humility to be deeply spiritual and an indication of the true spiritual life.   The parable of the sower teaches us that it is those with a, ‘honest and pure heart’, who will grow and bear fruit. In the face of tragedy, it takes true faith and humility to not allow pious explanations to falsely soothe our vulnerability.  For what do we really know about the mysteries of God and the blessings and tragedies that come our way?  Are we all not like Job, who in the end of his ordeal put his hand over his mouth and declared, “I have spoken about that which I did not understand”.  And Norman Maclean at the end of his story and literally near the end of his own life only knows what eludes him saying, “It is those we live with and should know who elude us. But I still reached out to them.”  In the end he is still waiting for the hope that a fish might rise. In the end he is still only “haunted by waters” rather than having answers. In essence, in the end, there is much, in fact, very much, that remains unknown.  It seems that perhaps there is not the sound of God’s voice but only the sounds of the river.

In contrast, sometimes, while I am in certain evangelical Christian circles I get the impression that God is continually speaking to his people in a clear audible voice and this is the norm.  It seems that God is telling people exactly what to do all the time and constantly providing dramatic spiritual experiences of his presence.  Unfortunately there is much sensationalism in the Christian church. I personally feel out of place with such claims.  In such circles the waiting in the absence of God has been stripped away in exchange for quick ‘feel good’ remedies. The vast silence of God has become something else, perhaps more likened to listening to some audio CD on some simple 3 step process of hearing God’s voice.

So where does this leave us?  I present myself as a guide who is willing to dialogue about the mysteries of the spiritual life and the parallels of the spiritual life with fly fishing. I write this short piece and other essays as a way of stimulating interest to allow dialogue. Yet, I do so with caution and the question has to be asked:  What then is there to talk about? While I am willing to dialogue it seems I am also skeptical and suggesting that God can be profoundly and vastly silent and not understood.

Then perhaps, I can suggest we can talk about the silence of God. Or at least ponder it and wonder what it might mean. Maybe God speaks to us in his silence. We can listen to the river, ponder the ‘words’ under the rocks,  and like Norman, we can still have the “hope that a fish might rise”. 

We can still have the faith that we will “meet something that will never erode”.  Perhaps it is all in the waiting as TS. Eliot wrote,

“I said to my soul be still and wait,

Wait without hope for hope would be hope of the wrong thing,

Wait with out love for love would be love of the wrong thing,

Yet there is faith, but the faith and the hope and the love are all in the waiting.”

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately" Thoraeu

Fly Fishing Glimpses From a Childhood Pond

“In our family there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing” Norman Maclean

After 25 years of being a fly fishing guide and 40 years of fly fishing experience there are a few things I have grown certain of.  I am certain that there is some thing wonderfully spiritual about fly fishing. Fly fishing can be a journey that in many ways parallels our own spiritual journeys through life.

I must confess that most often while fly fishing (or guiding others) I don’t necessarily think about the journey, nor am I aware of it.  I simply feel as though I am “just” fishing.  Nor, do I talk about the spirituality of things all that much. It is always difficult to talk mysteries with any authority.   However, I have reached an age where I find it is appropriate to find words that begin to express what I have learned on the river that moves beyond mere fly fishing technique and at the same time drifts deeper than typical mainstream Christian perspectives.  Helping others to learn the wonderful art of fly fishing is one way for me to share with others the techniques I have learned over 40 years of fly fishing and at the same time to enter into dialogue in regard to the deeper spiritual aspects of life.

Sometimes, after a long day of fishing while I am driving home pondering the day, I may get a glimpse of some deeper meaning that defines the day in some way that is bigger than the fish battled, caught and lost.  Most often these glimpses are quite vague and not very dramatic; Yet, there is something undeniably true of these experiences that lurk below the surface of the currents I fish.   It would not be too much for me to say that I have spent most of my life learning to pay attention to these glimpses that lurk below the surface of not only the waters I fish but also of ordinary day to day experiences.  

My own fly fishing journey began back in New Jersey in 1970 where as a kid I found access to a private pond. It was here, mainly by my self where I taught myself to fly fish. I taught myself to cast, to tie some basic fly patterns and to ‘sight fish’. I distinctly remember walking around the pond while false casting and scanning the water for cruising fish and then when the fish was spotted I would lay the fly out in front of it and watch the fish take the fly. I was mesmerized by the whole process and in due time my skills were sharpened and refined particularly for a young boy of my age and fly fishing became a way of coping with some of the challenges I faced in my youth.  

As a boy I encountered some of the typical challenges that confront many boys trying to figure out life and what it means to be a man. It was only at the pond that I found some solace from these challenges. For me, fly fishing felt as though I was walking on a path; “my” path, a “road less traveled by and one that would make all the difference,”  to paraphrase Robert Frost.  But at the time, I could not fully understand the significance of the path I was on, what I was learning and its place in my life.  

In looking back at my pond experience and placing that experience in context with the rest of my life, I can now get a sense that there was a story evolving. Seemingly random events have taken on new meanings. Was it any accident that I ended up living in Colorado next door to great trout waters and then, by being at the right place at the right time, I became a fly fishing guide for the South Platte River? The very fly fishing skills I learned as a kid,  I now find myself teaching those I guide.  I also don’t think it was an  accident that I have also been an educator (teacher/counselor) for the last 28 years and have taken countless numbers of  school kids fly fishing for the their very first time? And I have learned that many of my young students are/were just as confused and scared as I was as a kid.  I have also shared my story and my fly fishing skills with hundreds of adults with a wide range of abilities, (beginners, intermediates and experts) and learned of their own ‘adult’ journeys and challenges.  Over the years, I have wondered what glimpses and meanings my clients may have been given from the waters they fished.  And sometimes, together, we become aware that our stories overlap. We find there are “common waters” and that is a wonderful feeling of not being alone in our experience.  It bonds us together, not only as fly fishers but  with something deeper below the surface that will never erode.

It is a well known cliché that states everything happens for a reason. But I also understand how cliché’s lose their vitality, particularly a cliché that claims that everything, even the troubles of our world, has its place. There is much that I do not understand.   I remain an ignorant man. Yet as I age, and I look back and pay attention to my own life story,  I can’t but help get one of those little glimpses I spoke of earlier.  And that glimpse simply is the feeling and the ‘knowing’ (and at the same time the hope), that there was some purpose for my childhood experiences when I created  my first flies and taught myself  to cast. There was some purpose for being alone back then and how I found my own path and learned to walk alone.  I am convinced  that  because of these past childhood experiences and countless hours of fly fishing, that  I am supposed to share my own fly fishing journey with others, both kids and adults, and help them along in their journey. It feels right for me to be on this path (as it did when I was a kid), now as a guide/teacher/counselor,  trying to share this wonderful fly fishing  treasure with others.

I look forward to helping you on your own fly fishing journey.