One of the first lessons I received when learning to fly fish was confidence. "You've got to have confidence in that fly, in yourself," Jacob's words have remained with me all these years. It's why I fish certain patterns, choose long casts over short rolls and why I move through the water the way I do. It's all about where my confidence lies.
It's a funny thing when you lose your confidence. Perhaps you've spent some time off the water or had one too many bad trips. Maybe it was caused by a harsh word or unfounded judgment by a fellow angler. Then again it may have just disappeared and you have no idea how it happened.
For a while now my life has been filled with surgery, doctor's visits, high water, and more doctor's visits, with strict orders to stay out of the rivers and off the mountains. My body became fatigued during the process and my mind weak, resulting in a catastrophic lack of confidence.
Is This The New Normal?
This morning I got an alert on my phone prompting me to be ready to evacuate my home in case of flooding or a landslide. I'm not too worried about the flooding part. We live on a hill, and while we may not be able to leave the house, we'll be okay. But, I've been surveying my neighbor's yard all morning and reminiscing about all the trees they've cut down over the years. I packed a small bag that's in the car, just in case.
It's been raining here in Western North Carolina for two straight days and we've got three to go. Last week we went through the same predicament. I'm not talking about soft, delicate rain, but hard rain, the kind associated with thunderstorms and hurricanes and tropical depressions (insert Alberto). It's dark and wet, a feeling of seasonal depression has started to creep back into my being.
Well-Read Wednesday {Becoming Abbzug & Public Lands}
I was fifteen years old when I decided I wanted to be Bonnie Abbzug when I grew up. This is also when I learned about feminism. When I started dreaming about living in an airstream, in the mountains, not tied down to anything. When I first learned of the American Southwest. And, when I decided, that one day I would blow up a dam. I was fifteen years old when I first read The Monkey Wrench Gang.
Read moreMy Story
When I was young, very young I had a unique soap set for bath time. The bars were in the shapes of different endangered species around the world. It was produced by the World Wildlife Federation to help get kids interested in animals, the environment, etc...
This is my first memory of conservation.
Read moreThe Next Valley Over
"The majority of anglers who travel to fish are by nature either pastoralists or nomads."
-Charles Gaines
Meaning that while we're all there for the same reason, you've got those that are happy to stay in the "designated" waters and those that are always looking towards The Next Valley Over.
Read moreThe Reason
A few weeks ago I was digging around in my desk in search of a memory card or pen or something relatively unimportant. I came across a newspaper clipping of an obituary from a few years back. It was for my father's best friend, Jack.
Jack was a carpenter and fisherman. He was a worm dunker, but I try not to hold that against him, and primarily had no interest in mountain fishing, but was much more fond of salt water. Every year Jack would migrate down to Florida for the winter and spend his time in a boat or kayak with a rod in his hand. I remember when we found out that Jack was sick. He decided that it wasn't time to waste his life in a hospital, but to spend it with the people he loved, fishing. And, that's exactly what he did.