Fly-fishing is solitary, contemplative, misanthropic, scientific in some hands, poetic in others, and laced with conflicting aesthetic considerations. It’s not even clear if catching fish is actually the point. (John Gierach)
A bad days fishing can still be the best day of your life. Not all of what we call fly fishing involves fish, most of it doesn’t. It’s moments, moments that you’d never experience any other way.
You see things, an eagle soaring high in wide skies, the unfolding delicate wings of a newly hatched mayfly. You feel things, the sun, the rain and the wind on your face. And while we practice our craft, flies, line control, casting, something else is happening, it’s elemental, maybe subconscious even. A sensory connection to the stream, the push and pull of the current, light, reflection, liquid transparency, the cold touch on the skin – something begins to stir your soul, a rudimentary sense of connection to the big wild earth creeps into your awareness and we begin to rekindle our fundamental relationship to the natural world.
We say it’s the fish that we didn’t catch that brings us back, but it’s even more, it’s the moments, it’s what we see and feel.
There is a truth in it all.
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