Tag: Nature’s Teachings
Plan D

Plan D

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I’d been looking forward to fishing a very special place for months. My calendar dinged a reminder: My day! Abrams Creek. 

A friend from Black Mountain was coming over and we were going to seek the green drake hatch that had captured me, raptured me, last year on my birthday with my guide friend David from TroutZone Anglers. (Read that story here).

We left the house by 7am and drove through the national park and all the way around to Cades Cove with hardly any traffic snarls…that in itself was a little miracle during spring break season. We saw wild tom turkeys doing their impressive dances as female turkeys pecked for bugs and perhaps rolled their eyes as they turned their backs to the toms in search of breakfast. I was impressed with the tom’s dances; but, I’m not a female turkey. We also saw many white tailed deer as we slowly made our way to the turn to Abrams Falls. 

Finally, we were close and I pointed out the road coming up on our right. I also saw orange barricade barrels there but thought there must be a hole in the road. But no. As we drove up there was a sign hanging that simply said: Abrams Falls Trail Closed. Plan A: failed.

Kip later told me I said, “NO! No, no, no, no!!” I don’t even remember saying that as I was in complete shock. (Sigh). Months of planning and looking forward to this epic day and it wasn’t to be on that particular creek.

Both being positive humans we quickly re-grouped. I suggested we park at the visitor center and inquire about fishing the creek from there down to the trailhead. At first the three ladies behind the counter paused as their eyes bugged out and then in unison said, “NO! You cannot access the trail. It is closed.” Calmly we explained we were NOT trying to access the closed trail, but rather fish down to it. Then, they calmed down enough so we could smile and wish each other well before doing a bit of a scouting mission down the trail in the 32 degree air temperature.

Yes. It was 32. It had been 28. So you see, there was a bit of a warmup happening. A very small warm-up.

As we walked beside the small creek, we saw huge masses of trees blown down from a recent wind storm. Cades Cove had just re-opened a week ago. The park roads were closed for days as they worked to clear them. So we definitely understood why Abrams Falls Trail was closed. I’m guessing it won’t be open for a long while.

Plan B: failed due to skinny water and a general lack of enthusiasm from two fly anglers. Onward to Plan C.

We drove down a gravel road where I had previously seen people fishing two years ago. Once again, we felt the water was too small for what we had in mind. Plan C: failed. But, the temperature jumped from 37 to 50 degrees in a very short time. At least it was warm enough to feel more comfortable wading. Just where to go? 

The national park isn’t short on water with 2900 miles of streams, so we finished driving the beautiful Loop Road and made our way back to an area I’ve been wanting to fish, but will not name. Even though there are some rather steep gorges, we managed to finally, at 11am, put on our waders and boots, assemble our fly rods, tie on some feathers and cast. 

Water was swift and rocks were very slippery but we saw several trout rise and miss or rise and refuse. Sometimes it’s challenging to figure out what exactly is happening when trout are rising. I caught and released a nice rainbow and then another one before we moved on. We fished from the vehicle as too many areas were not wadeable. I caught another small brown trout in another pool and a rainbow a bit further upstream. At least we were seeing fish rise and there was successful dancing with trout.

The sun was bright, the water was clear. This makes fishing these wild trout very challenging. I stayed low as I could, hid behind boulders, stood in the shadows of large tree trunks in order to be a stealthy trout hunter. Sometimes it worked, but they were a weird bunch of trout kids today.

With the sun so high and bright, we headed back to pavement and another area I adore fishing that would offer a little more shade.  Again, we had a lot of fish action and I managed to catch a very nice rainbow and lost another one that was hooked but spit the barbless hook…but wait…that might have been back on the gravel road. It all blurred together after a while. We still had some silly trout antics that had me laughing. 

Just for kicks, I tied on a fly with odd colors I combined to see what would happen. I cast several times, making my way across the water. I could ‘feel’ a fish in a really nice calm area and sure enough…a larger trout rocketed out of the water but slapped the fly with its tail. It dove down, leaped back out of the water and slapped it again. Note to self: it is offensive to trout to use red thread and a bright blue foam body. Experiment failure…but that’s the fun of tying flies. You never know when you’ll invent the next fly that changes the world of the fish and insect nerds that we are. With this particular one, I was properly scolded by a large trout and I muttered an apology.

We were riding back through the park after getting off the overly-warm waders. We chatted about our crazy day. The trail being closed, the attempts at finding good water. The weird behavior of the fish at both locations (far from each other). And how much incredible fun we had. 

Our plan was such a great one. But it crumbled as we found the road closed. We could have allowed that ruin our day but WHY!?!?! It was such a magnificent day with turkeys dancing, deer frolicking, mayflies hatching…sun, wildflowers, trout and their silly trout antics. All the stuff magnificent days are made of. 

The day was a gift. Plan D was a gift. Crazy trout antics…a gift. A friend open to letting the day unfold however it would…a gift. 

Had either of us been attached to our plan, the day would have been quite different. Our flexibility, good humor, patience, and determination to let the trout lead us, allowed us to receive the gift of the day.  

I always think that how I spend my birthday influences how the next year will unfold. So I expect some doors will close, others will open and I will be unattached to closings and openings . Maybe one…or two…or three doors need to close so that the right door has space to open. I will cultivate flexibility, patience, and a keener ability to simply go with the flow so the magic can happen. I will allow Life to go off script as I open to the unwritten, unknown way forward.
Realigning

Realigning

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Last week, I explored my angst about not getting enough time in Nature; during five days off, I made an effort to change that. Every day, I went into the woods and came out happier, more at peace, and more aligned with myself.

Over the past two decades, when I’ve asked what I’m supposed to do with my life, I’ve heard to deepen my connection with Nature. It all comes down to that bit of inner guidance. Not, ‘Save the world,’ or ‘Do something huge.’ It’s been clear and simple…’Create a deeper, personal relationship with Nature.’

It’s taken a while to understand that I didn’t have to become an expert guide or teacher to lead others to their own connection with Nature, to their own inner healing journey. For many years, I thought that was what I was supposed to do. After some recent soul-searching, I’ve come to understand that living with a deeper awareness of the inner connection, the Oneness, can create positive change around me, just from being rooted, anchored in a reverent and reciprocal relationship with Nature. 

I’m most joyful when I’m with Nature, listening to flowers, water, trees, rocks…I mean being still and listening with my heart. Perhaps my contribution to the world is simply going out and practicing this. If we change ourselves, we create ripples of energy that move out into the world. In essence, by being exactly who we are, we create positive change in the world. Not by forcing or even inviting. Just by being who we are in our most genuine expression of soul.

The act of intentionally connecting with Nature changes me and it changes Nature. I’ve felt the shift many times as I consciously connect with various aspects of Nature. And it’s an outcome that isn’t coerced or pushed; it is a natural, organic way of being. 

I love to reflect on experiences I have outdoors and express them through creative processes. That’s all very natural for me, like breathing. Writing, photography, composing music…all arise from releasing myself to the creative flow that comes by being in sync with the the energy of Nature…Oneness…Source.

Many times people have viewed my photographs, read my essays and books, and commented that they can never do what I do but enjoy experiencing it through my sharing. I’m finally understanding my ‘work’  is to simply go out into Nature with an open heart, with a conscious desire to listen, connect, learn. 

Last Thursday, my teacher was a trout lily in full bloom. I sat on the narrow trail beside the lily and listened. In the stillness, I felt intimacy with the flower, mountains, birds, the creek far below. I felt my soul filling my body. I felt harmony within myself and everything around me. But, there wasn’t me and everything else….it was simply everything expressing the energy of Life in different forms. 

Friday, I hiked over 12 miles on a trail filled with beautiful wildflowers with friends and fly fished in the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen. Saturday I visited a unique geological area with a friend and saw bluebells and shooting stars. Sunday I waded a section of local water and danced with beautiful rainbow and brown trout. Monday, yesterday, I waded with pouty trout that kept missing the fly. All of it opened me to Nature, to myself, to all Life.

From now on, instead of trying to figure out how to help people connect with Nature, I’m going to listen to decades of guidance…Deepen your connection with Nature…and take it to heart. I’ll connect deeper with Nature and allow It to teach me, heal me, fill me with joy. I’ll allow the creative process to move within that relationship and witness the unfolding. I trust this to be my Path of true service to the world.
Go For It

Go For It

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So often we put off doing things we love because we think we need a day or half day to accomplish it. Bike ride, hike, walk, fly fishing….the list is endless really. Yesterday, after working all day, I tied a couple flies, gathered my gear and took off for the creek just because I couldn’t not go cast a line. It was one of the best fly fishing ‘days’ I’ve had in a long time.

The total walking time was two hours fifty-one minutes. The total wading and casting time was two hours or less since I had a bit of a walk up the trail before entering the creek. Total mileage was 2.39 miles. During that wading and casting window, I caught three rainbow trout, three brook trout, and one brown trout. That was a total surprise and a slam (the three trout species in our area). And three more trout went for the fly and missed it. They were on fire! And I was a very happy lover of trout magi.

From the first time I cast a fly rod, trout have been my teachers, my guides in learning more about myself and Nature. Even the smallest brookie has given me lessons in tenacity, patience, and trusting my intuition…which really means learning to read water and follow the inner nudge that says, That spot…there. Cast there. Many times that little prompting has yielded a fish dance.

Yesterday, I wasn’t expecting a slam, but was expecting to see fish. The water flow was back to normal instead of rain-swelled flow. It was 70 degrees and sunny so insects should have been hatching. Water temperature was 53 degrees. Sort of perfect conditions. And mayflies were hatching and fluttering with fairy-like flight. 

I could have taken a late-afternoon walk along the river, like I did the day before. But honestly, I couldn’t not wade. I love being in the water, surrounded by it, feeling it push against my legs. I love the challenge of finding a way across a creek, of figuring out where the fly might get a nice ride through the current. I love the light reflecting on the water’s surface. The birds that live along the water. The green moss. The wildflowers blooming. The sound of rushing water. The rocks….oh, the rocks! Quite simply, wading brings me into Oneness and balance. It reminds me I am part of Nature. 

As I was taking my rod apart and removing my waders and boots, I pondered the short time so filled with beauty, including the seven trout that danced with me and were still swimming free in the creek. I was reminded to always go for it. Make the effort to support what I am passionate about and make time for it. Life is meant to be filled with beauty and fun…whatever that means for each of us. So what if dinner is late. It’s just me, the dogs and cats, and they don’t wear watches.

If you’d like to experience holistic fly fishing with me, I guide in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park under a commercial use permit. I specialize in working with women that are new to fly fishing and want to learn with zero pressure to perform and who love Nature. Holistic fly fishing is about connecting with Nature through fly fishing, not about how many fish you catch. It’s all catch and release using barbless hooks or for those not wanting to hook a fish, I can cut the entire hook off and just leave the fly. It’s amazing to just witness a trout rise to a fly. Check out the details HERE.
Starry Awe

Starry Awe

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In the darkness, the branches of bare trees were illuminated by stars, twinkling and sparkling in the clear sky. Overhead, meteors flashed, some with long tails of sparkling cosmic dust making my squeals echo down the mountain, across the creek, and up the other side.

I looked at 9pm last night, but they were not active yet. So in the pre-dawn chill, I dressed warmly and stood under clear skies watching, waiting and then screaming in awe. 

What is it about standing beneath stars?  Maybe knowing these are the same constellations our ancestors, from thousands of years ago, stood under or that our loved ones, from thousands of miles away, might be standing under right now. 

It always brings perspective to stand beneath the sky and witness beauty so profound the only way to verbalize it is through whoops and hollers that echo across the mountains. Gratitude fills me as I type these words with fingers still chilled from the freezing air.