Category: Fly Fishing Women
It’s in My DNA

It’s in My DNA

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Been thinking about my dad a lot lately. He died when I was in college after a long battle with an undiagnosed ‘something’ that took his life in a very slow, painful way. A recent Orvis podcast on neonic pesticides brought it up in a deeper way.

My dad loved to fish and hunt. He was a strong, vital man…a farmer. My mom remembers him coming home drenched in pesticides from either filling the sprayer on the tractor or from flagging for the crop-duster airplane. The doctor’s never gave him a real diagnosis, but I did some searching on micro-fiche (rememberer that???) while at Auburn. I was in a Public Relations class and was doing a paper on environmental disasters and how the media covered them. I was actually working on a Three Mile Island paper, but while at the library searched for chemical disasters.

What I found was a chemical plant where workers were exposed to a chemical spill in the plant and they all got very sick, very quick. Their symptoms were the exact same as my dad, but they happened much quicker because of the massive exposure.

I’ve always linked my father’s illness and death to chemical exposure. But that’s not what’s in my DNA…at least I hope it isn’t. He’s been gone 41 years now, but his love of fishing is what I find deep within myself.

As a kid, we fished from the time we were toddlers. My first fish was a flounder on a cane pole when I was probably three or four years old. Then there was a deep sea fishing trip with my dad, when I was 12, when I hooked a king mackerel and it was big! I didn’t think I could land it, but my dad stood beside me and encouraged me and refused to let me give up. It was a lesson that stuck with me. I’ve never given up on life, even though at times it’s been tempting to forget the dreams and just become a robot like so many humans.

The podcast…it was about neonic pesticides and how they are so deadly to insects….good insects…that we need. Like bees and mayflies and caddis flies….basically without insects we are completely done for. We can just bend over and kiss ourselves goodbye. And of course, many fish species eat insects…so you know where this is going. This is a group of pesticides outlawed in Europe and other countries, including Canada. And I just heard, New York state outlawed them (yippie). The rest of our country needs to wake the heck up! These are more dangerous than DDT…remember that one?

I write this to honor my dad…how he passed along his love of fishing to me. As I wade the creeks and rivers here in the Smokies I think of him. He’d be in his 80’s now. Sometimes I think he’s wading alongside me, probably smiling as much as me when I land a fish.

As I begin to offer holistic fly fishing to folks, it’s my hope that it helps them heal as much as it does me. And that I can pass along good stewardship of our planet to all who wade with me or read these words. It’s not just about catching fish, but caring for fish and all life on this magnificent planet.

By the way…I’ve eaten organically as much as possible since my dad’s death. I figure if I support organic farmers, that’s one less conventional farmer spraying with these chemicals or using seeds treated with them, that’s getting my money. Forty years ago you had to be in an organic food buying co-op to secure organic food. Now, you can walk into almost any grocery store and buy organic. So, I do that and I write my representatives in Congress and let them know this is unacceptable. And I remember my dad and the legacy he left me: don’t give up, stand up for what’s right, protect the Earth. Thank you dad!

My brother and me enjoying dirty feet and freshly caught fish.
Bats, Fly Fishing & Initiation

Bats, Fly Fishing & Initiation

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Three weeks ago…

I walked to the trail on the paved road. After a short hike on the trail, I cut through a section of woods to reach the creek. I was headed for a particular bend in the creek that was deep and very fishy. Water levels were low so the bottom was slick; however, that particular creek bottom is always slick as snot, so I carefully crossed and walked along the bank to the spot. 

Storms and floods had changed it significantly from the last time I was there, so casting was challenging through several downed trees. But within a few minutes, I had a very nice rainbow dancing with me. Usually I’m wading; however, because there was a steep drop-off in the water, I was standing on the rocky shore. 

I was stripping line and walking to a better place to bend down and release the fish without bringing it out of the water. Easy, with nothing out of the ordinary except the strange, black blob flattened right where I had been kneeling. 

Upon closer examination, the blob became a bat. At first, I thought it was dead; but with even more careful observation and a gentle nudge with my wading staff, the bat hissed and I was  the one disturbed. I had been kneeling there. Like…right there.

Knowing that bats are the most common carrier of rabies, with 3% being infected, and seeing that it was close to mid-day and the bat was not sleeping, I knew better than to touch the bat. But it was at the edge of the creek so perhaps it fell out of the overhanging tree or missed a swoop to get water during the night. Bats cannot take off from the ground. Maybe it was thirsty. So I got a thick stick and wet it and dripped water on the bat’s face. It drank so I then allowed it to crawl on the stick and airlifted it to the tree. It crawled off the make-shift airplane and huddled on the tree.

I thought about the weird encounter, how strange it was, for the hours I spent wading upstream. Later than afternoon, when I removed my pants (no, I wasn’t wearing waders…I was wet wading) I saw a red mark on my knee. Ugh.

I fretted throughout the weekend, wondering what to do. Did it bite me? Did I even kneel on it? Monday my doctor referred me to the health department who referred me to animal control. The lady at animal control was blunt, “You do not have a choice. You must get the preventative treatment.” I won’t go into the actual experience of the series of shots but I certainly am glad they are over and I’m now protected from further encounters with potentially rabid creatures.

But seriously….what in the world?

Having studied shamanism for many years, I realize that encounters such as this are powerful and the animals are significant teachers. The bat is symbolic for letting go of the old and bringing in the new, of transition and initiation and a new beginning. The bat is a symbol of promise in the chaotic energy of change. Ted Andrews writes in Animal Speak, “The bat reflects the piercing of new barriers and the opening to higher wisdom. It symbolizes a new truth being awakened.” He writes further to say that it implies strength and stamina to handle issues that might arise as you open to new consciousness. “Its message contains the promise of new horizons and unexpected views about to manifest…the bat is powerful medicine. It can be trying, but it always indicates initiation—a new beginning that brings promise and power after the changes.”

In the three weeks since that encounter, the way has opened for Wading Women, a holistic fly fishing program, to be birthed…many months ahead of what I intended. In fact, this week was so chaotic, in a good way, to birthing this program that my head has literally been spinning. Everything came together seemingly suddenly, even though I’ve been steadily working on it for over a year. 

I’ll write more on Wading Women soon to share the mission, the intention, and the specifics. But for now, I’m just sitting on my front porch, watching the mountains across the valley, thankful for little…and big….miracles that are happening to launch a program of empowerment for women. And thankful for encounters with many beings, both animal and human, that change the trajectory of my life.

——

To learn more about Wading Women, visit WadingWomen.com. 
I Let Go of Cave Diving

I Let Go of Cave Diving

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It took a while. In fact, it took several years. But this week, I finally let go of cave diving. 

I hadn’t been cave diving in a while, after enjoying it for nearly 100 cave dives. But diving in an overhead environment requires honed skills, not occasional dips into underwater caves. Unless you do it often, it’s really not safe. So, I finally listed a set of double steel tanks on a social media scuba page and sold them within an hour or so which led to selling my regulators, deco regulator and my reels. They went quickly after so many years of pondering the question: Should I let go?

Today, after dropping off the set of tanks to a buyer in Hickory, I drove on to Winston-Salem to see my friends Van and Patti. Van was my Intro, Apprentice, and Full Cave instructor as well as a dear friend through the years…but I hadn’t seen either of them in a while. He had contacted me about someone giving him fly rods that he was bringing to me to donate to Wading Women, a fly fishing program I’m planning for women that want to be empowered through wading and fly fishing. It’s rather odd that my friend, my instructor, was there in person after I released my last piece of cave diving gear, waiting with fly fishing gear for the program. 

And on the way home, I stopped in Asheville to visit my friends Laleah and Bill. Bill had already gifted me with some really nice fly fishing gear he was no longer using. Today, he passed along salt water fly fishing gear, as I’m starting to plan some trips to salt flats, back bays, and other coastal places. The gear is amazing. And I am so grateful.

Today felt like such a powerful day of letting go and opening to whatever is coming next. And it must involve fly fishing. I was gifted with 9 older model fiberglass fly rods and reels that are epically retro as well as 7 very nice salt water rods and more reels that I can sort in my travel-fatigued brain tonight. So I’m in a place of ‘what just happened?’  I’m almost in shock that the act of letting go of something I loved so much opens the door to new adventures in teaching fly fishing and deepening my experience by playing in salt water with fly rods. 

Here’s the other thing….every single time my mind starts coming up with doubts or negative self-talk about the idea of Wading Women, I get signs that I’m on the right path. Today, it feels as if Wading Women reached out and grabbed my shirt collar and said, “Hey, do you still doubt that this is the right direction? Do you? Are you paying attention?” 

Yes!! I’m paying attention. I won’t fear letting go and letting doors close. New doors are opening and they are opening in a BIG way! 

Van was there at the beginning of my cave diving journey and today, he was there at the end of it. But, he came confirming the next step. How cool is that? It’s probably been 15 years since I’ve seen Van and Patti, but it was so sweet to connect with them again. And to visit with Bill and Laleah on my way home to my mountain paradise. 

What an amazing day of friends, closing doors, opening doors, and the way forward being shown to me so very clearly. I am deeply grateful.

Sometimes it takes letting go to clear the way for something new and wonderful to be birthed.
Got To Be Real

Got To Be Real

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It had been a lovely day of wading. Several brookies and a rainbow danced with me. I helped a bat get back to his tree, found three spools of expensive tippet in the water, and enjoyed the green bursting out everywhere in the mountain forest. 

As I was finishing my hike, I glanced across the field, behind the old church, and saw a wedding happening. The white dress, bride’s maids…the whole thing. My car was parked along the dirt road, past the dressed up folks at the wedding. I was wet wading so was soggy up to my knees, had on a muted green jacket and a baseball cap. Scrambling up and down banks, slipping on wet rocks…doesn’t lend itself to fancy dress.

(Photo by David Knapp)

Normally, I’m happy as can be in my fishing clothes. But today, I noticed something happening within me as I contemplated walking out in the open, past the wedding party. I noticed I started walking with my head down and feeling self-conscious. What am I feeling, I asked myself. The answer came immediately…shame.

My brother and me enjoying dirty feet and freshly caught fish.

It was like my entire life flashed in my mind and I saw how hard it was for me to be myself growing up, which was a jeans and tee shirt girl with skinned knees nearly all the time. It wasn’t any better moving into my teen years when expectations to conform to social pressure were high. I never fit into the girlie mode yet feared if I was myself, I wouldn’t be accepted. But I still wore jeans, avoided the ‘in-crowd’ and always felt like I didn’t fit in. 

I’ve always been fierce in standing up for myself…what to wear, how to be in the world…30-something Simone

Feeling that way helped me grow to love solitude. I could be myself when it was just me and my horse or my dog. I could dress however I wanted to, ride on the dirt road and open my heart to the sky and fields, free from the pressure but grievously aware I didn’t fit in, hardly anywhere. Anywhere except with Nature.

I hadn’t thought about any of this in decades until I noticed shame arise when I was faced with dressed-up people in the field I was about to walk through. Of course, now I realize I was dressed appropriately to be in a national park, out in the woods…hindsight, you know. 

I reflected on my life as a kid and teen a bit after that moment of shame arose. The definition of shame is the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous done by oneself.* As if the way I dressed or the fact that I loved horses and dogs and being outside was somehow ridiculous because most kids didn’t do that…no, most girls didn’t do that. 

Yes, I wore a cowgirl outfit as a kid and loved my grandmother Wenzel who grew flowers and had puppies.

How much pain we go through being real. By the time many of us are adults, so many protective layers have been applied that we hardly know ourselves. If we are courageous enough to strip away those layers and be real, I suspect we’ll discover light that would illuminate the world.

I still love dogs…

The solitude I cultivated as a teenager has blossomed into a deeply spiritual practice. As I wade and hike and cast, I open myself to Life…and it is so good. And to the girl with skinned knees, the teen riding her horse in jeans and a tee shirt, and the 60-something year old woman wearing fishing clothes, I say this: your beauty shines bright, keep your heart open, and never, ever be anything other than yourself. When who we really are is embraced and encouraged, magic happens. 

(One of the reasons I am creating Wading Women is to empower women to claim the wildness within, to enjoy Nature without feeling a need to fit in or conform to anyone else’s expectations. And to fill their lives with their wonderful, shiny hearts.)

*Dictionary.com
Fierce

Fierce

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After an intense weekend of a NOLS Wilderness First Aid class and four days of insane, chilly winds, I finally found myself hiking and wading late this afternoon. When the wind is so high, it makes it dangerous to be out hiking…and today proved that point as several trees were across the creek in places where I often wade. Plus, the pollen was thick and swirling. I was so ready to be outside, standing in clear water, casting a fly rod.

I’d been wading, hiking, and casting a couple hours with great success and decided to hike upstream a bit further. I was about to pass an area, but felt an intense, magnetic pull to it. I turned around, hiking down a bit, and entered the creek to wade my way back upstream.

Some places just look fishy. This place was primo-fishy with deeper, slower water and a big log for cover. A trout could rest under that log and just wait for the yummy nymphs to flow right into its mouth. 

I’d caught and released several rainbows and was enjoying the beauty of the place so deeply that I momentarily zoned out. I cast to the head of the pool and as the flies drifted past the log, a nice-sized rainbow trout took the nymph and a fine dance ensued. As I gently brought the fish to the water at my left boot, I carefully took the hook as the fish remained in the water. It wouldn’t settle so I wet my left hand and carefully grasped the strong body and used my right hand to remove the barbless hook. In those brief moments of contact, I could feel the strength and fierceness of the trout. That untamed wild energy was powerful to feel. Hours later, I still feel it.

It is my hope that I can cultivate that kind of energy within myself and use that fierceness to walk my path with strength and courage. There are fish that make me smile…and then there are those that are fierce. Those are the ones that inspire me.