Isn't it wonderful to get out in the clean fresh
air on a crisp fall afternoon, or the rich air of a
fresh spring morning? The strike of a trout after
a perfect cast. The rhythm of a perfect day on the
water. The challenge of a trout that just won't hit
your bugs, but will go after everything else that
The frustration of a bad day on the water, but the
realization that it was better than any day you've had
at work or school. The pure pleasure of a great day on
the water, during which you realize all the bad days are
worth it for the good days. The wonder that runs
throughout your mind when you gaze into a deep
enticing run under an undercut, of a tiny creek.
The excitement you get when the same run produces
a nice trout, which came out of nowhere, from the
depths of the creek to slam your dry fly, or pull your
nymph. The mystery that lies in the deepest hole of the
smallest brook, in the most lonely place.
What is it about the obsession we call fly angling that
traps you and addicts you? What is it about a creek that
urges you back time and time again? What is it about
the same creek that urges you NOT to leave, that wants
to keep you, and own you for a few more hours.
What is it in our minds, the minds of fly fishers, that
insists we fish for a few more hours, that insists we not
have to catch fish to enjoy the time spent on the water?
Is it the wily trout that inhabit them, and which intrigue,
and elude us? Does it come from our soul, deep inside?
The feeling that there is no other relationship possible to
obtain like the one between you and the wily trout.
Is it a longing for companionship of this kind? Is it the
glory of such surroundings, and the special feeling, you
get when you realize that your experiences are oblivious
to all but others with the same addiction?
Is it the thrill of the chase of the wily trout which you
can't control? Is it the intrigue of the facts that nature
annot be changed, or the thrill of knowing that you
cannot control nature, and must adapt? It is not
possible to control nature, but it is possible to cope
with it, and to try and adapt to it.
The wily trout is yet another of the same definition, yet
at a higher caliber. It is the wily trout that makes us strive,
and gives us a reason to be in the great outdoors for hours
and hours on end, even days. Is it not the wily trout that
you can blame or commend on account of how good the
trip was? It is the wiliness of the trout, and the unchangeable
conditions of nature, on which you can base the assumption
that it's not always the fisherman's fault for a bad day of
I think the wily trout plays the major part of our addiction,
if it is not the addiction itself. It is the wily trout that eludes
us by sometimes not being where we expect it, and being
where we don't. It is the same wily trout that pleases us
when it cooperates, yet frustrates us when it doesn't. It is
that old wily trout that has the outright authority to either
turn it's nose up at a fly, or slam full force on the same fly.
Is it this that makes us addicted?
We trying our best to trick the trout, to sneak a sly one
on it, to hide our presence from, to leave it in natural order
so that it will strike our artificial dry fly just like it did the
natural two minutes ago. Do we not enjoy provoking this
wily trout? Is it not us that tempts the trout with our offerings?
Although, it is the trout that is in command of whether
it is caught our not.
After all, it has control over it's habits, when it feeds, what
it eats, where it lives, it decides if it doesn't like your
presentation, or if it is in the mood for surface play and
whatnot. It is this that I love, that I am addicted to, that
I can't really get enough of, and that I know I never will.
It is this that you can never perfect, but can adapt to the
particular situation, which is the trick.
If there was ever a lifelong pursuit, which brings the pure
enjoyment, all the while with frustration, confusion, elusion,
provocation, and complexion, yet can be so simple and
relaxing; if there ever was another pursuit that urges you
on so, and that makes you put so much time and effort into,
with so much longing, I don't think it is possible to pick a
better sport for all it's worth than the art of angling for wild
trout on a fly. ~ Blake Wills (aka Mountain Phly)