From The Deep

My ankles were cold, though soon they would go numb. My focus however was in the sound I was making. Thrum. Sheeee. Thrum. Sheeee. And finally the release.

The fly at the end of my rod lazily flew ten feet before making a plop onto the surface of the shining lake. The sun blazed above, and across the other side I could hear the loons calling out and the eagles flying to the top of the trees. One such bird simply cruised by across the lake, taking pity on me as I grabbed my line in hand and ever gently and slowly brought it back. I was proud that my fly made it to the water, even if I was not getting a bite. I knew it was a good idea to pluck the twigs that got attached after I extricated it from the nearby shrubbery, and the effort was paying off. Thrum. Shee. Thrum. Sheeeee.

It certainly was a humbling moment to attach a fly, years removed from doing any fishing at all. I desperately tried to keep the barb from piercing my thumb, and was eventually able to make my gorilla fingers work and tie the knot together. As luck would have it, the knot was strong and many trees were uprooted rather then having my fly break off from the line. Of course with my mind wandering the sound of the line being pulled back changed to a whiii and I looked to see the fly desperately holding onto my pole, the line wrapped around once or twice.

Luckily the pole was only twenty-four feet long. Putting it into the water, I simply walked to the place it was caught and unwound it, letting forty feet of fishing line out alongside it. After-all you cannot fly fish without swinging the weighted line wildly forward with the force of a baseball pitcher, and so I needed as much line as possible to achieve that effect. I brought the line back into my hands and tried again. Thrum. Shee. Thrum. Sheeeeeee.

Fly fishing takes quite a lot of effort and concentration, so I can say with certainty that the best way to sharpen your focus and temper your patience is to bring your family along. As your younger sibling tries to instruct you on the intricacies of the artform known as fishing, watching them chomp on chips and throw their own pole into the back of the car in pieces, you too can gain the patience of the Buddha. This will prevent yourself from strangling hapless passerby’s while listening to their enlightening backseat commentary such as “If you throw your line out, make sure to tip the pole forward so it lands on the water” and “Do you know that your line is in the tree again?”

Such simpleminded observations can only come from the uninitiated, and so taking pity I simply smiled after removing my line from the tree nearby and cast my line, plopping the fly perfectly five feet in front of me with the rest of the line spooled around it. After two minutes of reeling it back in it occurred to me that perhaps I could be more efficient, but it quickly passed when the shadow of a fearsome fish attacked my fly before darting back into the dark depths of the lake. Finally, after forty minutes I had seen a fish. You can’t be content with simply seeing such a creature. No, you have to assert your dominance as a member of the human race, demonstrating your intelligence and catching it. With determination, I quickly started my cast again. Thrum. Sheee-

After an hour and a few bites, I had decided to part with the lake in a draw. Only the convenient intervention of my family prevented me from besting the fearsome fish of the lake, and alas I could only do so much to argue for the continued stay. Nevertheless, I looked back one last time as I took apart my pole. The shine of the sunlight hitting the lake, the croaking of frogs. The loon gazing out at us from the middle of the lake. This was worth all the effort and time. I vowed to snag a fish. Someday. Eventually. Probably.