Fly fishing is not an industry in which you'll get rich or famous (not counting "internet famous"), but a thing from which you just can't back away. It consumes you, at every possible level, even during the most hectic of guiding season, when you feel like you're on the verge of burning out, you don't.
Read moreThose Moments
Wanderlust
When you hurry through you aren't enjoying it, not really. The adventure turns into a "to-do," the experience is lost. You're trying to accomplish something, mark it off a list, feel successful. Living life this way is not beneficial, and fishing should take place slowly and thoughtfully.
Life isn't always about grand adventures, sometimes it's about enjoying the little things, taking your time, and being happy with where you are.
Read moreHome
There's a river that flows not far from the house. It's the one that Jacob and I fish most often, mostly due to proximity and easy access. Not all days can be spent on hour long hikes, although I wish that they could be. We've followed this river for years now, trudging from top to bottom, in sun, rain, and snow. I guess it's appropriate to call it our home waters.
Read moreOdd Ways
On Thanksgiving morning Jacob got a phone call from a fellow rod builder, just to say "hi," happy thanksgiving, and to see if he'd gotten some supplies that were recently dropped in the mail. The conversation turned, inevitably, to what our dinner plans were for the day.
"We're gonna go fishing."
"That's kind of an odd way to spend the day..."
That comment stuck with me all day. Mostly because I wondered if our "odd" ways were possibly a bit too odd.
We spent the entire day, knee deep in cold water, throwing wet flies and catching an array of football shaped brookies and rainbows. We were basically the only two on the water, and it was pretty great. We finished up the day eating frozen pizza, Jacob heading downstairs to plane out a rod and I found my way to the sewing room to pop out some "hurry up" orders.
It wasn't what you'd call a conventional Thanksgiving. We didn't have any turkey or watch any football. We didn't pull dressy clothes out of the back corner of the closet. We didn't spend the day with relatives we rarely talk to out of obligation. Instead, we spent the day doing what we're most thankful for with the one we're most thankful for.
I'd say that's a pretty good day.
Surviving on Hot Coffee and Tiny Trout
The morning light is filtered and grey and ominous. The kind that reaches out and covers everything, from the tops of the mountains to the bottom of the valleys.
The air is heavy and wet, not quite raining, but nowhere near dry either. It's not that cold out, but the dampness makes it almost unbearable. Layers upon layers are applied. You fill up your travel mug with the hottest coffee you can stand.
You question your sanity.
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