Tag: fly fishing
Lovers

Lovers

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I pause a moment. Just a moment though, because I am so anxious for your embrace. I breathe in and out, in and out. Sweet agony.

With tender care, I step from the soft, green moss into you. Sensations of bliss start at my feet and make their way up my body. Rapture to be held by you once again. Time away has only fueled the passion.

Your cool waters are moving rapidly, but I feel safe as your pressure pushes against my legs. I wait to unhook the fly from the rod, too caught up in the feelings of my body and arising from my heart. I am so smitten by your beauty, so in love with you and the rocks and trees and flowers that live, move and have their being in your presence.

Finally, I began to cast the fly line and watch as the fly gracefully lands and floats downstream. Again and again I cast, to a smooth run, a riffle, above the rock. Wade and cast…drift….breathe. Wade and cast….drift…breathe. Upstream I move, everything else no longer exists. It’s just you and me and the trees and rocks and moss and flowers and blue sky peeking through overhanging leafy branches.

Finally, a slight tug, a gentle snap of my wrist and we’re dancing with a rainbow. Then watching her swim away, quickly released with deep gratitude for the connection.

On it continues, the wading, the casting, the dancing. The bliss. And then, I’ve danced enough and leave the trout to their day as I walk back down the trail.

You call to me as I near the trail’s end, ‘just one more embrace, just one more moment.’ So I wade into you again and duck under rhododendron branches to the place…you remember the one…where the master lives.

You are deep here, very deep, and you are moving fast so I stay in the shallows and cast to the realm of her: the majestic rainbow that teases me and teaches me humility.

On the third cast, my fly lands softly, perfectly, then disappears. ‘Where is it I wonder’ and strip line instead of setting the hook. She rolls up, her massive silver side giving evidence to her guru status. She releases the fly and giggles. I swear she giggles. And the laughter is contagious so I laugh as well. And then you laugh and it’s a love fest, here in the mountains where you and I first met.

I turn to leave, but you ask, ‘why have you stayed away so long, lover?’ ‘The heat, the basement room flooding, you were raging a couple weeks…remember?’ I say. You respond, ‘oh, yes, I do have my moods,’ you respond. We smile as I promise, ‘I won’t stay away so long again.’ As I step from you, I turn and smile. ‘We truly are perfect lovers, you and I. We give each other space to have our feelings, our lives, and then when we come together, it’s pure magic.Thank you.’

I walk away, back to the other world but you cling to my legs and feet. We are never really apart, you and I. We remain in each other’s heart. Forever lovers.

If you want to experience the magic of fly fishing, contact me. I am a holistic fly fishing guide in the Smoky Mountains specializing in working with new fly anglers. www.wadingwomen.com. More info? Click here.
Threshold

Threshold

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The gate is a threshold that offers a portal to a magical world, a green tunnel overhead and clear, flowing water underfoot. A place beckons where the outside world is left behind and the seeker can receive precious gifts of the present moment.

Fly fishing small mountain streams offers so much more than interacting with trout. And while dancing with trout is amazing, it’s the relationship cultivated with then entire ecosystem that brings us to gain understanding of Oneness, connection, balance.

When wading and casting, one doesn’t have to concentrate on doing any specific mindfulness practice or yoga asana to find balance. It naturally occurs from being completely present. This comes from immersing not only the feet into cool water, but the entire self into the experience of staying upright on slick rocks and keeping the fly out of rhododendrons overhanging the creek. And submerging into the absolute beauty of wading through the green tunnel.

When only focused on numbers of trout caught, the entire experience of passing through the threshold into the magical world can easily be missed. Anyone can splash through water and drive themself relentlessly to pursue fish. But only those souls who understand the true gift offered by the river and rocks and trees, will come to know the Medicine offered by fly fishing.

Photo by Anna O.

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I call it holistic fly fishing and offer guided experiences through my business, Wading Women. Holistic fly fishing is based in balance of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects of the experience. It is an approach founded in awareness of the environment and interconnectedness of all life. Our excursions are based on creating a nurturing, safe place to learn and connect. It’s all about deepening our relationship with Nature and all life by wading and casting…Wading Women. For more info visit the Wading Women website.

Photo by Anna O.
When Rocks Sing

When Rocks Sing

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The large bolder in the middle of the clear, rushing water was the perfect place to sit as I tied on new tippet and a new fly. As I focused on tying the knots, attention given completely to the task, I felt vibrations coming from the rock through my body. Must be the rock transmitting the water’s movement, I thought.

On I waded until I found a much bigger rock to sit on for my snack of dark chocolate and almonds. As I chewed the nuts and sweet treat, I felt the same thing. I’d never felt vibrations from a rock before…not like that. And yes, the water was moving but, still. 

So I sat and felt the rock trembling and wondered if it was my body shaking…but no, it was definitely coming from outside of me. 

What must it take for something as solid and heavy as a rock to reverberate with the energy of water? I’ve been at large waterfalls and felt the earth shake from large volumes of water. I’ve stood on cliffs over 700 tall on the west coast of Ireland and felt the ground shake far back from the edge as waves crashed into shore. So yes, it’s possible for earth to transmit vibrations of moving water. I had just never felt it on the rocks in the creek.

It’s rather amazing, really. Something as hard and heavy and big as a large bolder can convey the language of water through vibrations. And, I’m guessing I could have put my ear to the rock and heard the music of the interplay between rock and water through the rock’s interpretation of those vacillations of sound waves…of energy.

In my meditation before sleep tonight, I closed my eyes and listened to my body. It felt energized and alive, in perfect balance. That usually happens after four or five hours of wading and casting, but tonight I noticed something different. It was as if my body still held the vibration of the rock…the music of the rock…and continued to emit joy from that profound song. 

While I truly love dancing with trout and the relationship I have with them as they swim to flies I tied and refuse or try them or swat them or ignore them, it’s experiences like I had today–when rocks sing to me and I am still enough to feel the music–that nurture my life, my self. 
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.