J. Castwell once asked the question,
"Why do we fly fish?" A thought provoking
inquiry it was. Sometimes it takes a lot of thought
to figure out the simplest answers; sometimes they
just pop into your head because you have wondered about
them for so long that you already know.
Why does a great steak tantalize the
palate when you find the right wine to go with it
and its flavor dances on top of your tongue? Why
does a fine automobile give you pleasure simply
by sitting in it, savoring its aroma? Where else
can you meet a person of better means who is willing
to interrupt his day of fishing to chat with you
with gleaming eyes about a Hornberg he has tied,
inquiring not as to who you are or what you own?
Certain creations were meant to give
personal pleasure, though the concepts were not
initially conceived to bring about that end. That is
what is unique about the sport of fly-fishing to me;
it is a personal pleasure that affords me an opportunity
to enjoy one small part of life in my own way.
Whether it is the act of a simple forward
cast, the tying of an exotic fly pattern, or just
simply wading a favorite stream in solitude, that is
what draws me to the art of fly fishing. That moment
is mine and mine alone. As I lift my line above the
water, begin my first back cast, all the stresses of life
begin to fade away, being released in that final moment as
fly hit the surface film for the first time that morning.
My troubles flowing from deep within my soul through my
fly line, out into a calm depository in one gentle loop.
Although many others practice the art, some
more proficient than I do, other just beginning, there is
never a moment in time that another fly fisher will criticize
my casting technique. He will not shun an opportune moment
to discuss any aspect of the sport, on or off stream. In
addition, what if he does? I just wade away to a quieter
stretch of water and the individual pleasure of the art
returns immediately, quickly sending into history the
individual who threatened to take the moment from me.
Tying flies, making leaders, or practicing
casting in your yard, a park, on your steet while your neighbors
look on as if your psychologist is on his way over? Silent
whispers through the air, disturbing no one, give you satisfaction
when perfected. Time to yourself in front of your vise? Stopping
on a favorite stream alone on a mist-chilled morning when no one
else is in sight for miles? Breathing in the scents of nature
yet unpolluted? Noiseless space abundant? The smells of
freshly dewed grass, water and stone? The graceful dance of a
deer across the stream? The sound of liquid flow fills your soul
to the max with pleasure gold cannot give you.
These are some of my reasons for fly-fishing,
my friend. What be yours? ~ DS