It’s a sensation that is birthed at the core of my being and moves through my body and mind. I used to find it diving—being in neutral buoyancy, surrounded by water, contained by an ocean or freshwater spring or underwater cave. But it’s been a while since I’ve been diving…selling a home, moving, the plague has redirected my pursuit of deep peace but it’s still with water.
I walked up the trail a mile and a half before exchanging my trail shoes for fly fishing boots. At some point during the wading and casting I paused, seeking something…what am I missing, I wondered. Within a moment I knew…that deep peace that finds me as I merge into blissful Oneness with creek, rocks, trees, fish. Ah…yes. It will come.
I intentionally slowed my wading, created longer pauses in casting, spent more time watching the surface and soon that delicious feeling began to move through me—the return of a cherished friend.
From the first time I cast a line and watched a rainbow trout wiggle its tail and spit the hook, I knew I was hooked. I have been in the water with humpback whales and photographed them and learned from them. I’ve been with a large pod of wild spotted dolphins that befriended me and played with me, but these trout are no lesser teacher and guide than my cetacean family.
Often while wading I am grateful for my yoga practice that helps strengthen my legs and improve my balance. The rocks are slippery, the water is rushing past, the bottom is uneven, so every experience of fly fishing is a yoga practice…slow movement, balance, breathing, connecting with something greater than myself.
It can be seductive to analyze it, to categorize it, but the ultimate outcome is that I feel really good after connecting with deep peace. At first, I thought it was the neoprene smell of waders or wading socks that reminded me of diving. And that might be a trigger, but the real reason I love fly fishing so much is that it opens a doorway to profound peace, just like diving. It’s my meditation, yoga, mindfulness and Oneness practice.
“Did you catch anything?” How many times did I hear that walking the two miles back on the trail after flyfishing today. I don’t go to catch fish. I mean, not really. I go to surrender to the flow of clear water, feel the push and strength of the current against my legs, breathe the sweet air, watch the sunlight dancing on the surface after the fog clears. Yesterday I saw an otter as I sat on a rock in the middle of the creek. A successful flyfishing experience, for me, is just being there and allowing myself to drop into the rhythm of Nature.
I cast my line and nymph (an underwater fly) into a beautiful little pool today and a huge trout leaped out of the water and hit my fluffy, white, wool strike indicator (a strike indicator is a flyfishing term for bobber). It was amazing! A bolt of silver and pink exploded and then disappeared. I didn’t catch her but that one strike made the three hours spent on Deep Creek double….no triple special. Fish are a fun part of the experience but I release them anyway and don’t use barbed hooks so most of them slip off before I land them (which is better for the fish so it’s fine with me).
I stumble verbally when people ask me if I caught anything because I am filled with wonder and delight and gratitude after time on the creek. It seems to lessen my experience if I say no, because that one question is all they want to know. It’s a pass/fail exam. Did you or did you not catch fish?
I generally attempt a quick reply as we’re walking past each other. “No, but wow it was awesome. I had a trout leap out of the water and taste a blob of wool. Yesterday I saw an otter.” They hurriedly walk on giving a polite smile and muttering, “That’s nice.”
After much contemplation—which is considerable on a two-mile hike back to the car—I decided that to keep it simple I would tell the next person that asked, “Did you catch anything?” a quick, affirmative answer. I got my chance a few minutes later when a guy asked and I said, “Yes! It was amazing!!” and he replied with a shocked look, “REALLY!!!!???” I wanted to ask him, Why are you so surprised? Surely women catch fish in your reality.
And I didn’t really lie. I caught a tree limb, two blobs of leaves, my flyfishing boot, a submerged limb. Heck, I caught a LOT of stuff today. But mostly I caught peace…more peace that I have felt in a very long time.
I want to be able to express my utter joy of the experience of wading, sitting on rocks, casting a line, watching a trout magi elder burst forth from her pool…all of that is as good as catching a fish. With no exception. Now I know why they say people that fish are liars. Don’t make us lessen the experience by asking such a loaded question because to keep it simple we’re gonna say, Why I sure did. And boy was it a whopper!
I haven’t really come up with a quick and easy response to the dreaded-question but I look forward to spending much more time contemplating it as I wade the creeks and rivers around the mountains of Western North Carolina. If you see me just ask, “How’s it going?” That’s a much easier question to answer…. “FABULOUS!”
A month ago I met my granddaughter. She was born during the plague and circumstances kept us physically apart for over 18 months. This was especially difficult because my daughter’s announcement of her pregnancy gave me a reason to be present in an increasingly chaotic world. A grandchild, like all children, needs every possible adult to be present and bring forth her or his gifts. This was reason to stay, not only stay but really engage with life in a deeper way.
I’ve wanted to write about our meeting, of connecting with my daughter, son-in-law and Max but a long string of events happened that kept me from sitting down with my thoughts…a new job, facial surgery, a flood that severely damaged nearby areas and trying to regain balance in everyday life with the plague roaring through our world again. Finally, two podcasts opened the door to the inner space and ideas that have been working within me so I could put words to the experience.
During those long months of not meeting her, I longed to whisper into her ear…I love you Max. It was on a ride to the local farmer’s market in Michigan that Max and I connected in that place where the mantle of elder hood was gently laid on my shoulders. We didn’t need to say anything. In the backseat we made eye contact and I signed…. I LOVE YOU. She was taught basic sign language and every time I signed…. I LOVE YOU….she did the sign for ‘more.’ In those precious moments, on the inner I asked her how she was….a bit confused, hard to not be able to communicate what I know…frustrating. Through my eyes I told her it was okay and she had awesome parents to help her…and I also reminded her to remember….remember…that place she had come from and to which she still accesses.
It felt important to make that connection with this beautiful soul. My granddaughter. My daughter’s daughter. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.
After documenting the Gulf Oil Spill for a year, I came out of that experience very bitter and emotionally shut down. A week spent with Joanna Macy in one of her workshops helped but I couldn’t accept pleasure into my life when so much horror happened and people so easily turned away once the well was capped. No matter how much I told the story, through words, videos and images, people had moved on to the next thing. Forgetting the lesson citizens of the planet could have learned had they chosen. So I began focusing my work on beauty. Perhaps that would capture the attention and lead people to care more.
Back when Em told me she was expecting a baby, I had lost interest in trying any more. I was disgusted with humanity and felt it didn’t matter what I did, it wasn’t making enough of a difference to make a dent in the ecological horrors happening. But there was a child coming into the world that needed me to re-engage with my passion for Nature. To step back into That which called me here when I was born. I couldn’t abandon her to the raging insanity of the world. I had to give my all…for her.
It’s hard to care, isn’t it? We see such suffering, such indifference, such insanity and wonder how it could have gotten this bad. It takes effort to remain engaged with what’s happening and stay open to beauty as the two seem to be opposites. But maybe we’re supposed to learn how to find beauty in a broken world…The tender touch of a nurse to a patient dying alone because of Covid. The person picking up trash along the road. The animal rescuer feeding a tiny, abandoned kitten. Perhaps our growing edge as a society is to see beauty within the ugly, to find points of light in the darkness.
My granddaughter reminded me, even before she was born, that the gifts I have are needed, that my light is needed. Maxine calls me to be my best self, to forgive my mistakes, and to fully engage in the work that calls me.
The day after I learned my daughter was expecting, I saw an otter with two babies on my morning bike ride. I stopped on the boardwalk and listened as she called them and they answered. Otter. That was what I called her until she was birthed and given her human name. Otter, in traditional wisdom, is Woman’s medicine and represents playfulness, laughter, creativity. Maxine’s birth reminds me to embrace this Medicine. She, like all children, are our greatest teachers.
We stood at the edge of Humble Hole, the place where big trout hover suspended in the cool waters of the Davidson River and watch as your fly floats by…dry, nymph it doesn’t really matter. This might frustrate many fly fishers; for me seeing those fat fish relaxed, unspooked by the fly line or movement of the two humans on the bank was beautiful to behold. After all, I’m not there to catch fish—I’m there to witness beauty. And those trout magi are the wise elders. Except that day the other human was also a wise elder in the art of fly fishing.
The largest fish hatchery in NC is located at the Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education. They raise rainbow, brook and brown trout. It’s open to the public every day except Sundays….and worth the visit.
The past two mornings were spent at the Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education near Brevard, North Carolina. I took part in a women’s fly fishing school presented by the North Carolina Wildlife Commission. They have various fly fishing offerings that include a kid’s program, casting classes, fly tying. Our two day school included the basics of fly fishing and casting on day one and fishing with a river wisdom keeper on day two.
Steve was my mentor for the morning. I learned so much and improved my casting a lot.
I call these volunteers river wisdom keepers because they offer their experience and expertise as fly fishers to those wanting to learn. Veterans of being snubbed by trout, they offer solace to those of us eager to learn how we, too, can be humbled by a rainbow or brown or brook. But they gift us with so much more. After all, fly fishing is creating art while fishing.
It’s good to know what nymphs are living in the place where you are fishing. Steve shows me a nymph that looks like the pheasant tail fly that I’ve caught a lot of fish on in my endeavors thus far.
There are many elements to fly fishing…selection of the fly or flies to use (dry fly, nymph, streamer), tippet length, strike indicator placement, stealth, casting (without catching rhododendron, brush piles, rock edges, submerged sticks, yourself, your guide, your rod/line), water flow, ledges, holes, riffles, seams, shadows. The river wisdom keepers volunteer their time to teach about all of these elements and more.
Too often we fail to take advantage of the wisdom held within individuals who have spent years learning this living art. As I stood beside Steve yesterday, I felt honored to be one of those lucky enough to learn what he had to share. As I glanced upriver and downriver, other mentors were with their students…what a beautiful sight.
Steve was very trusting of me to hold the rod still as he changed flies. Once he even held one fly attached to the line in his mouth to add another one below it on a nymph rig…he did remind me not to move the rod. Trusting soul isn’t he!?!
The North Carolina Wildlife Commission provides these programs free of charge. Yes…free of charge (unbelievable, I know). The programs are paid for with funds generated from fishing license sales for the most part. According to an article in the Citizen Times several years ago, trout anglers gave the state’s economy an estimated $383 million from direct sales on fishing equipment, food, gas, lodging, and guides. That same 2014 study found 3600 jobs were supported by mountain fishers. A 2009 study showed a total impact of trout anglers in North Carolina impacted with $174 million boost to the economy. That’s a significant jump in five years. Considering the Great Smoky Mountain National Park had the highest visitor numbers ever last year, it’s difficult to imagine what economic boosts fly fishing is providing the state present day. A drive along trout creeks and rivers or a hike into even more remote creeks gives evidence to the high demand for fly fishing in our Western North Carolina cold creeks.
Women are the fastest growing demographic among fly fishers and our wildlife commission acknowledges this by providing dedicated classes for women. Because fly fishing has been a male-dominated endeavor, it’s sometimes challenging for women to enter into it. In the four months I’ve been involved with it I’ve visited several shops or outfitters just to see how a woman is welcomed. Some have been amazing and supportive beyond imagination. One was so full of testosterone and loud, vulgar stories I will withhold any support of that particular place or their guides for anyone. In April, when I started practicing art while fishing, I connected with several guide services for instruction (since classes were not happening due to Covid). Every one I ‘interviewed’ was asked how they felt working with women clients. My favorite outfitter, Little River Outfitters, recommended a company (Trout Zone Anglers) and I went with them after emailing the owner and checking out the bios of their guides. I chose one with a wife and two small kids…I mean, he must have patience. It’s important for women to feel supported and respected, especially when entering an arena that has been dominated by men for so long. But the smart outfitters, stores, and guides realize that supporting women means their business will prosper.
I didn’t intend for this writing to meander like one of our mountain creeks so I will bring in the line, so to speak, and simply thank the instructors and the wildlife commission for being so progressive in their putting education for all as a priority and especially to those river wisdom keepers that volunteer their time to spread the love of fly fishing.
Trout are some of the most beautiful fish. I hope to be able to paint abstracts that are inspired by their colors and patterns.
It had been a few days since I’d been in the cathedral of water, rocks and trees so I was excited to find myself preparing my fly rod as I stood beside my car parked at the end of the campground. Two boys were riding bikes and obviously just getting to know each other…what grade are you in? second? I’m six years old…look at that tree…oh, yeah, that’s neat.How precious to overhear their conversation as I assembled my rod and reel and rigged it.
Finally, their curiosity drew them to my staging area. Hey, what kinda fishing pole is that? I replied, It’s a fly rod…a bit different than spin tackle. They took in the answer and then the one that was clearly a fisher said, Oh, yeah. I use spin tackle. That’s a different rod and reel isn’t it? I went on to tell them a little about fly fishing and opened my little fly box to show them the beautiful flies. Oh, wow! Those are cool!Hey, you have a walkie talkie like me, he said. Oh, it’s a satellite messenger that allows me to call for help for me or anyone I meet on the backcountry trails. He said, Oh, yeah it’s sort of the same. I replied, Yes, both allow us to call for help. It’s good that you stay in touch with your parents while you are here.
I suppose my getting everything ready to fish bored them and they eventually sped off on their bikes after saying bye. My heart was smiling as I thought how nice it was to see two children of different races getting acquainted with no prejudice or hate…just curiosity and sharing and exploring the campground in the Smokies.
Warmer weather allowed me to wet wade and the connection to cold water inside my boots was holy water washing my feet. The fly rod is really just an accessory to my wandering and standing in wonder at the beauty of the place. I had two really good strikes and after an hour decided to move on up the creek but first I needed to stop by my car to drop off a wad of fishing line and plastic bottle I found in the creek. While there I decided to change my fly.
As I was finishing up a guy that walked past with his dog as I was in the creek walked over and asked how I was doing. I knew when I saw him on the shore that he was a fly fisher. You can tell by the gleam in the eyes and the keen interest…that spark of knowing how amazing it is to stand in clear, cold water with a fly rod. Once you fall in love with fly fishing…well, you can see it in a person’s soul. And it’s not just the fishing. It’s the rocks and water and trees and the entire ecosystem that calls to us, opens us to beauty that is almost unimaginable.
We stood and talked and shared stories about fish and places we’d fished. Obviously, my list was much shorter since I only began fly fishing in April. His wife and two little girls walked over and we had such a sweet visit. He told me about a different technique he uses, gave me two beautiful little flies and showed me photos of a place four miles up the same trail I love so much. I was so touched by his generosity of spirit to share about his successful fishing technique and gift of flies.
Immediately after we said our goodbyes, I walked to a favorite deeper pool and caught a sweet little trout who leaped off the hook as I reached out for the line. Actually, this made me very happy because with less handling the fish recovers much quicker. (I use barbless hooks to further reduce injury to the fish). I continued up this favorite little run and ended up having a few more strikes and finally removed the fly and reeled in the line and just sat on a rock in the middle of the creek…for a long time.
That is my favorite way to meditate…feet in the water, seated on a rock, the sound of rushing water providing music along with bird song, green leaves creating a tunnel around the creek. I love diving but this is a good as diving for me except I’m not weightless while fishing.
After spending half an hour or so breathing in oneness with the creek, I stood up to wade back downstream and thanked the life there for our time together. As I arrived at my car another fly fisher was gearing up and asked about the fishing. He and his wife were visiting from out of state and we enjoyed sharing a bit about experience of fly fishing. He said he’d enjoyed it for years and it was so much more than the fish that drew him to wading with fly fishing gear.
I don’t think of it as a sport because it’s really a way of being.
It was a most unusual morning at the creek. It felt like a celebration of love for the creek and forest and life within them with these beautiful people all brought together by a simple fly rod and reel and a passion for beauty found in Nature. I waved to the family I had chatted with earlier as I drove past their campsite and left with renewed hope for humanity.
