Category: Fly Fishing
The Geek in Me

The Geek in Me

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After 65 fishing days in the first year of fly fishing, I decided to try some higher performance equipment. Not to catch more fish, but to take myself to another level of skill. Or maybe because I am a gear nerd. A total gear nerd. Fly fishing, cave diving, mountain biking…a total geek about gear. I love activities that use specialized gear.

I’ve been thinking about the upgrade for a while. I haven’t traveled anywhere in almost three years, except to visit my daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter, so my travel budget has been invested in a pastime I enjoy weekly, instead of once a year….or once every three years. (Yes, I realize I am justifying the investment).

After many weeks of pondering and asking advice and reading, I headed over to my favorite fly fishing shop in Townsend, Tennessee, and tried out several rods. It seemed the high-performance rods accentuated, magnified, highlighted all my bad casting habits. It was a bit embarrassing. But Dave, one of my favorite mentors at the store, worked with me and really helped me develop better muscle memory of the right skills. It felt like starting over.

As we stood in the bright sun in a grassy area behind the shop, I cast horribly. Dave gently offered correction. It reminded me how in life we learn unhelpful habits and have to revisit the basics of effective living to mend those habits, so our lives move on a better trajectory. 

Each time the line unfurled behind me in a straight line, I saw how subtle and correct movements of my body made that happen. As we refine our behaviors and thoughts, our lives can move into greater alignment with our Path of Heart. The adjustments we make may be small, but they can have major, positive change in effective living.

I took the new setup to an area not far from the shop, in the national park. An open area…easy to wade. Casting new gear where I usually fish–small, tight creeks lined with rhododendron–felt like inevitable disaster, thus the reason for choosing the open area. I needed more space.

I saw how my old habits are going to be difficult to break, yet the coaching had taken root and I began to implement Dave’s suggestions with some pretty sweet success. But only in terms of casting, not catching fish. Small trout played with the dry flies and one cast had four little rainbows chasing the fly as I retrieved the line. As I stood in the water, some nice-sized trout came toward me and found safety near my wading boots. I’m happy they feel so cuddly towards me, but it doesn’t say much for the dry flies I was casting. 

By giving myself space, I was able to correct old, ineffective habits and begin to build skills that will better serve me. I can’t think of a better metaphor for life.

After an hour and fifteen minutes, I decided to switch to a nymph, or underwater fly. Just as I got the fly tied on, but before I clipped the tag end of tippet, thunder boomed. The heavy, dark clouds I’d been watching, started to create safety concerns.

I reluctantly retreated to the car and after stowing all the gear, the rain began to move through in sheets. I will fish all day in the rain, but lightning is my cue to find shelter. Plus, the major highway across the gap in the national park often closes when bad weather moves through. I didn’t want to have to do a long drive-around should that happen. 

Several years ago, I was at a yoga retreat in Ireland. I walked many miles, over the time I was there, in the rain, wind, and cold. The retreat leader commented that I was so prepared and had figured out the gear I needed for any condition. If you have the right gear, it supports the outdoor experience–hiking, cycling, fishing, paddling. Maybe my being a gear nerd simply reflects the ability to support myself in what I want out of life….growing into a clearer expression of love and kindness.

I don’t see fly fishing and my personal growth and development as separate. The same goes for hiking, cycling, stand-up paddleboarding, nature photography. These experiences are simply part of the way I expand and work through blocks to living fully, to allowing the Medicine that wants to flow through me to have a clearer channel to do so.  Nature is my best teacher and healer.

A friend of mine recently commented that whatever I do, I aim to do it professionally and with perfection. I thought it was a helpful observation and one I’d never considered. But then I remembered my first time in the pool during scuba lessons when I knew I’d become a scuba instructor…and I did become one. Since then, I’ve learned I don’t have to reach that level of professionalism to excel and enjoy a sport or activity. But it does explain my tendency to be a gear nerd. And my love of having the right tools to do a good job whether they are outdoor gear tools or inner tools and skills I develop to live more effectively.

Many thanks to my mentors at Little River Outfitters for always being supportive and welcoming and to Dave for braving the wilds of the grasslands and my backcast to offer some really great coaching. You can’t get that from ordering online or visiting a store that wants to charge you for casting coaching. That’s why it’s worth the drive across the gap, through the peaks, and worth the frustration of getting behind super-slow-driving tourists.
The Green

The Green

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Intense green seemed to ooze from every expression of Nature. Grass growing in the creek, trees gracefully arching over moving water, trees with newly unfurled buds—all of these elements joined together to create a glowing green realm that quite honestly seemed otherworldly, as if I had wandered into the faery realm.

It was a rainy day that started with heavy, gray clouds. Being prepared with the right gear made the rain a non-issue. Fish tend to like the rain. Or perhaps fly fishers like the rain because the trout aren’t quite as able to discern hand-made flies from naturally occurring insects hatching. It wasn’t a disappointing day wading, casting a line, and generally enjoying what I think of as a typical Smoky Mountains perfect day—cool, rainy, foggy, and beautiful.

Generally, I fish alone and enjoy it immensely; however, I fished with guide David Knapp, owner of Trout Zone Anglers, and was able to explore and wade places I wouldn’t generally go by myself. We went off the trail and made our way upstream using the creek and rhododendron thickets and moss-covered banks to navigate. The only other indication that others used the area was fresh elk droppings. The road wasn’t far away, but it felt as if we were immersed in a magical ecosystem of cold water, rocks, moss, trees…and trout. Lots of trout.

In past writing, I’ve said it’s not about the trout. But it is about the trout—and everything else, too. I occasionally fish another river, outside of the national park, and it’s pretty and there are many stocked trout, but it’s not magical like these remote areas that require extra effort to traverse, extra miles driven down bumpy gravel roads, and a capacity to enjoy beauty that stretches one’s ability to take it all in.

I won’t go into detail about what I learned about fly fishing, which was a lot. I’ll simply state what a pleasure it was to fish with someone who enjoys the whole experience of fly fishing, not just counting trout that are landed. Wading, stalking, casting, listening to birds, noting insects, watching trout rise to flies—these elements and more absorbed, appreciated and celebrated. 

April 29th of last year, I started fly fishing. Almost a year to the day, I was able to feel the confidence I’ve gained and skills that have improved as I’ve enjoyed over 65 fly fishing experiences, most of them in the national park and most of them solo. I’ve come to appreciate the intricate innerworkings of these cold, mountain creek ecosystems and am so grateful they have received me into their beauty.
Keeping it Simple

Keeping it Simple

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Less is more.

My birthday gift to myself was minimizing the gear I wear and take while fly fishing. As the weather shifts to warmer days and my hikes increase in length to find solitude, I needed to drop weight and cool down. The key? Dropping a piece of gear that carries way too many things.

I like my fly fishing vest, advertised as having 30 pockets. Awesome!! (I don’t think I’m exaggerating). The problem is: it contains 30 pockets. And it’s quite warm. The obvious solution was to wear a waist pack. But before the vest, there was a sling and then a large waist pack. The sling remains as a colorful, fun outdoor pack but I didn’t like casting in it and the waist pack was too heavy and kept falling down unless I used the shoulder strap and then it was no different than the sling so it was returned. The vest was the perfect solution.

During colder months, when the extra insulation is appreciated and I’m not having to walk as far to find solitude, the vest is great. But these days, I’m hiking six miles or more with 70 degrees (and climbing) temperatures so a small pack seemed like a good idea.

While the idea of a smaller kit for my gadgets and tippet and fly box seemed great, what about the net? I visited my favorite fly shop in Townsend, Tennessee, and had some awesome assistance in figuring out the net. A simple holster was the answer. A smaller fly box was the only other essential I needed.

As I begin to unload the vest and store things like the small emergency blanket pack, the drying towel, the heavy fly box, I laughed at how much ‘stuff’ I was carrying on my fly fishing hikes. No wonder it felt heavy.

Figuring out how minimal I could go was actually quite fun. Lightening the load felt like a puzzle I was solving. How much can I leave behind? How much do I really need? Such important questions….not just for fly fishing.

Six and a half miles yesterday hiking and wading was the maiden voyage of the small waist pack. The overall feeling? Freedom. Nothing weighing me down, cooler as the temperatures climbed to 72 degrees. I felt lighter with more room to move and cast and bend over to photograph wildflowers that were blooming everywhere.

So often fly fishing (or wading-with-a-10-foot-stick, as I call it) mirrors life so perfectly. Letting go of things I don’t need is good, but letting go of thoughts I don’t need is even better. Once in a while it’s helpful to inventory what we are carrying–that we no longer need–whether it’s gear or thoughts or burdens. What keeps us weighed down? What can we do to keep it simple?
Rock in the River

Rock in the River

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One of the reasons I enjoy fly fishing is experiencing the deep connection I have to water. In particular, wading the mountain streams creates an opportunity to be totally present and viscerally connected to the clear, cold water.

With moving water and slippery rocks, it’s imperative to pay attention. A wading staff helps as does regular yoga practice, but it’s still very easy to succumb to gravity and the constant force of moving water to become more viscerally connected than I want. Wading with intention.

It’s not just intending to stay upright. It’s also purposefully noticing each rock, gravel bed, root, overhanging branch, movement under the water, insects hatching, and rising fish kissing the surface. Every part of who I am becomes engaged in the process known as fly fishing.

But to be honest, the time spent in the creek never feels complete unless I sit on a rock in the creek just to observe and breathe. Those are the sweet moments when I can let go and be present—meld into the elements and recognize the Oneness of all life.

This past Christmas day I delighted in several hours of visiting my favorite little mountain creek. At one point, my back began to complain and I felt compelled to sit on a rock. After securing the fly line and hook, I found a nice rock and commenced to enjoy true stillness of body and mind. As if often the case, a teaching began to emerge.

I noticed the rushing water swirling around the boulder, around my booted feet. How long have you withstood the force of rushing water? Look how connected to Earth you are. You let everything just go around you without being moved. You are an amazing rock!

My mind needed that lesson. Too often I allow the calmness and stillness I practice cultivating within my mind to be interrupted by thoughts that come and go. Ever since then, when I find my mind distracted or going down some ridiculous rabbit hole, I ask myself, where is the rock? I laugh and report, way back up the river. It’s a way to monitor the mental chatter and multitude of times that old habitual thoughts and worries take me far away from being grounded and centered; take me far away from myself.

The rock in the river has become a touchstone, pun intended, to see if I am present with myself or if my mind has wandered downriver to some swirling eddy filled with debris. 
Long After

Long After

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The clear, cold water moves through me still. Long after four blissful hours are over there remains inner clarity and flow. My cells were changed, cleansed, and made new. The trout swim within me; I am part of the river, still with them. 

I close my eyes and sense the inner sparkle. Things were laid down in that river; burdens left behind to be carried on the currents of flowing water…down, down, down over rocks and waterfalls, scrubbing away the heaviness so that by the time they reach the sea, those burdens are only sparkles of light, released from constriction, freed from bondage.

I give thanks for wild places.