It seems to be that every group of fisherman has the guy that seems to “catch the most fish” on any given outing. And it isn’t that he is a better fisherman, but rather, he just does it more often. Other guys cast just as well as he does, and others seem to be able to get to spots where he may be physically limited. There are definitely times when other guys catch more fish than him, but no matter the circumstances, he always seems to do pretty well.
I seem to be that guy, and it really is just because I fish more.
And you’d think that because I fish more, I would have an expert level knowledge about the feeding habits of trout. That’s not the case.
I know as much as the next guy who fishes pretty regularly…nymphs low and deep, emergers rising and just below the surface, dries on top, all depending on what you see the fish doing. Yes, there’s WAY more going on in a river at any given time, but I like to keep things simple, and I mostly do ok.
But no matter how well I fish, there is always room for improvement. That’s the best part of fly-fishing. It’s not something you can ever master because, as John Gierach writes, “It’s impossible to master. However good you get, there will always be casts you can’t make and fish you can’t catch.” And even though I am that guy of the group of dudes I fish with, there are new things I am learning, or bumbling through, that keep me grounded and humble.
As my partner, Ed, and I venture into the process of promoting Guys Fishing Weekend as a business to build a fishing community and help address the epidemic of loneliness in men, there are aspects of it that are brand new to a 55 year old school teacher. Namely, technology.
I would be what you consider “Old School” to the middle schoolers I teach. I regularly need their help with all things computer and technology in my classroom. I like to think of it as a learning Dojo, where I allow them the freedom to have real world experience, helping those around them and realizing that old people can learn from young people.
When you frame it like that to them, you don’t feel so stupid… pretty sure they know the difference. And most of the time they aren’t afraid to let me know they know.
Technology is my Kryptonite. But unlike Superman, I can improve and learn how to use it. I believe it to be much like fly-fishing: you can gain an immense amount of knowledge but never know it all. That’s the goal — get better.
So, in order to impress my younger partner, who knows a hell of a lot more than I do, I have taken to strapping the newly bought GoPro to my head whenever I go fishing in order to create content for our venture.
The fly-fishing purists are probably cringing at the thought of this, but it is a progressive thought process and necessary in order to help create and build a community. And that’s the goal. Because everyone wants to belong.
One day in particular early this spring, before runoff, I was fishing a section of stream fairly close to my house. It was a good day to be on the water, with a mix of sun and clouds, cool. I was working hard to make sure I was using the camera correctly, getting footage of me catching and missing fish, commenting along the way.
I am finding the best part of sifting through footage on my computer comes with listening to myself mumble on the river. I never knew how much I talk to myself when I fish. Those conversations always seemed to take place in my head. They don’t.
The morning was going great, as I brought a few fish to the net, but the fish weren’t really jumping. My footage was ok, but there was nothing spectacular.
I was looking to capture spectacular.
I wanted to show my partner that I could film one of those catches where the fish hits your fly, launches out of the water, and dances across the glassy wet dance floor! This shot was my quest for approval.
I was working my way up one side of the river, sticking to the banks, when I heard the undeniable beeping of the camera, signaling a dead battery. It just so happened that the side I was on was steep, with no where to take a time out, sit, and change the battery without running the real risk of dropping it into the river. So I decided to cross.
As I was working my way carefully across, being extra careful to keep my footing, there came a “moment” of decision. What presented itself in front of me, was a perfect structure and piece of water where there were fish, no doubt.
I was looking up stream at this giant boulder, and flat water behind it, causing two beautiful slots on either side, when it happened…the sun broke through a cloud and shone brightly down upon me. It was truly gorgeous.
What happened next was instinctual. Without thinking, I set my feet firmly on the slick, rocky riverbed, unhooked my line from its eyelet, and started the process of peeling line from the reel while backcasting. As I got to the point of perfect distance, I let my fat yellow Stimulator drop to the water nice and easy…
WHAM…fish on!
Not only did this pretty rainbow hammer my fly, he put on a production that most people would have paid to see.
He launched, he danced, he writhed, and he wiggled. It was something out of Little Richard video. It was something to behold, all through the ray of sunlight that acted like a spot light centered on the front man of a band standing behind his mic!
It wasn’t until I put the fish in the net, when I realized none of it was caught on film. With a bit of that sunken heart feeling, I dropped an F-bomb or two while stumbling my way to the side of the river where I could at least grab my phone for a couple of pictures.
I wasn’t bummed out; after all, I caught a really nice fish, who unselfishly gave me a wonderful memory that is embedded as one of the best fishes I have caught this year. However, I desperately wanted the approval of my partner, despite being 20 years his elder.
I wanted him to see what I was capable of, especially given my struggles with technology. The experience would have made a great little piece of content for us.
As I sat on the side of the river after having released that pretty rainbow, my thoughts stayed in the moment. No, I didn’t get it all on film, and I failed to obtain the technology approval I desperately wanted.
Some people might get pissed about something like that, but my partner let me know there would be plenty more opportunities. He reinforced our newness at this venture, and he gave me kudos for giving it a go.
That’s all the approval I needed.