Nature's Teachings Archives

Why I Fly Fish

By Simone Lipscomb | June 5, 2023

Beyond the sound of water flowing over rocks is something more. If you listen, really listen, you can hear it, but not with your ears.

The creek holds the vibration of creation for the entire ecosystem. I go to fish and yet there is so much more I find besides a few moments, here and there, of dancing with wild trout.

In the woods, standing in clear water, I connect with something greater than myself. Everything that keeps my monkey mind in an uproar drops away the longer I wade and cast. Today was over 4 hours and 5 miles of being present, completely present. Fifteen minutes after leaving the creek, monkey mind started up again. I looked at the clock and laughed. But I recognized it and was able to drop back into that state of peaceful oneness. Practice, practice, practice.

I think of fly fishing as mindfulness meditation. Everything I do while wading and casting requires complete focus and presence. Slippery rocks are a perfect mindfulness mentor, Watch where you step, be one with the flow, or whatever else rocks might whisper in their gravely voice (pun intended).

Wild trout magi teach mindfulness about blending in, being quiet, being observant. They teach compassion and respect…land them quickly, keep them in the water, release them quickly.

The green moss, trees, wildflowers, birds singing…all teachers of mindfulness; however, the most powerful mindfulness teacher for me is water. It has been my entire life.

When I moved away from the Gulf Coast several years ago, back to the mountains, several friends asked how I would be able to live away from the water. The funny thing is, I spend more time in the water now than I’ve ever spent in my entire life. I guess I moved to be closer to my master teacher.

I’m starting a program called Wading Women, designed to empower women through fly fishing. I don’t know if women that are drawn to this program will feel the mindfulness aspect of wading and casting, but I want to give them the opportunity to do so.

Beyond the sound of water flowing over rocks is something more. When I connect with that something more, I am changed and return from the experience a better version of myself.

Featured image by David Knapp of Simone wading. Visit Troutzone Anglers to learn more about David’s work.

Got To Be Real

By Simone Lipscomb | May 7, 2023

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.

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.

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

Meet My Friend

By Simone Lipscomb | April 19, 2023

As I wandered and waded today, I felt a bit off from my usual happy-water-vibe. I couldn’t settle into myself. Couldn’t cast worth anything. I was about to jump on my own case when I heard, like a trickling whisper, The wind is really strong today. It’s okay. It’s very gusty. Just relax and have fun.

So I relaxed and let go of trying to cast perfectly, took off the dropper (nymph fly) and started just playing with a dry fly in the wind. I worked on casting for about an hour. The wind gusted and stopped, gusted and stopped, and I casted and cursed…but only in fun.

I was in a large (for this creek) area so I could actually do a full back cast. I chose different rocks to target and worked on accuracy in the crazy gusts. I didn’t worry about spooking trout because I was just playing around and practicing and had already cast all over the deeper pool and thought I’d scared any trout into hiding.

Even with my casting and quickly stripping line in, a trout started rising in all of that madness and eventually took the dry fly, which totally surprised me after that much chaos in its watery realm. You never know when it comes to trout. (That totally blows every bit of advice on being stealthy while casting).

But it’s not the trout I want to introduce to you, kind reader. Today I want to introduce you to one of my best friends.

It is birthed at 3400 feet above sea level, where Chasm Prong and Gulf Prong come together, miles away from its terminal point at Oconaluftee River. Washout Branch and Bearwallow Branch are two of many small waterways that come together to create my friend, each adding their own unique energy to the ever-growing flow as it moves down, down, down.

When I was feeling out of sorts today, I stopped and looked at the wildflowers blooming, the bright green reflections of new tree leaves in its surface, and the moss-covered rocks around the banks and felt so grateful for the friendship we’ve shared over the past few years.

Sometimes my friend is wild and too crazy to wade in, but days like today, my friend caresses my legs with its 58 degree temperature and makes me feel included, surrounded, part of itself. I can feel discombobulated with crazy monkey-mind shenanigans happening in my head, and my friend calms me, soothes me and points out birdsong nearby…or reminds me that the wind is rather gusty.

The creek has many friends that hang out…trout, bears, birds, wildflowers, snakes, mayflies, trees, moss, rocks…when we all get together it’s a real party.

It’s my sincere hope that all humans can find friends in Nature and visit regularly to have celebrations, dances, and prayer meetings.

Enter…The Trout Zone

By Simone Lipscomb | April 5, 2023

From behind a large boulder, the tail of the deep pool looked perfect. I picked up the tip of my rod, stripping off line, and did the back cast. Just as the fly began to follow, I glanced down and about 15 feet in front of me a mayfly was emerging from the water. As it gained altitude, a trout did a vertical leap, at least a foot high, but missed the mayfly. By that time, my fly landed right where the mayfly hatched and the trout turned and grabbed the fly.

The timing of this was quite insane. And thrilling. In the span of a few seconds, there was a hatch, followed by an acrobatic leap, and a twisting dismount that positioned the rainbow perfectly to take the fly. This was one of those, I can’t make this up, moments.

Downstream about 300 yards, and 40 minutes previously, I walked up to a favorite stretch of flat water. Just as I cast the line, a large orange-colored bird dive-bombed me. I was watching the drift of the fly and when I pulled it up to re-cast, the same bird flew within a foot of my head…straight to my face. I thought I was near a nest and ducked….but wait a minute. That’s a strange looking bird.

I continued casting and the crazy bird kept chasing the fly and diving between the loop of my fly line. No bird can do that. I missed three or four nice hook sets due to the freakishly orange bat. Yes, a bat. It was fascinating to watch, but was coming a little too close. In my distraction, I lost focus on fishing. I finally figured out if I raised my arms as it flew near, it would veer away.

A big brown bat’s color varies from reddish brown to light brown. This one was out in the late afternoon, early for its nocturnal feeding habits, but I saw this last spring and had one on another nearby river chase the fly. The bat today not only chased the fly and dive-bombed me, it drank water by skimming the surface of the water. Amazing.

It felt like I slipped into some alternate dimension where Nature was trying to see how much beauty I could absorb, how much interaction with trout and bats I could handle.

The little fly that was smoking’ hot today. I tied it with two red hot spots. Elk hair tail and wing, yellow body with red thread and grizzly hackle wrapped around the body.

It was a 5 ½ mile hike with wading being part of that distance. But it seemed as if a door into a world of incredible beauty opened and I happily stepped through it.

The trout were sweet to dance with me and I had several beautiful fish visit for a few seconds, until I gently slipped the barbless hook out of their mouths as they waited patiently in the water. Without hesitation they swam away, and found a rock to brood under while their pride recovered.

Every time I wade and cast a line, it’s good; today, however, was a visit into….The Trout Zone. I was vibrating in harmony with the rocks, water, bat, trout, flowers, blue sky, trees, moss. And hours later, I’m still in a state of blissful peace.

What brings you to a place of peace and calm? I hope you can create space to invite that into your life soon.

Stink Bugs for Breakfast

By Simone Lipscomb | March 25, 2023

Dreaming of wading…and casting….I couldn’t wait to do a late
afternoon/early evening visit to the creek.

There’s something about the warm, espresso-flavored froth as it is slurped…the first taste of the morning. But this morning, as I poured the froth over the espresso, I thought I saw something floating. I ignored it but just as I was about to experience that first frothy goodness, I saw it again.

I got a spoon and stirred and not one, but two, stink bugs swirled in my over-sized mug.

The night before, I always prepare the cup under the spout and make sure water is in the tank. Evidently, two stink bugs overnighted in the cup and nearly created a cappuccino catastrophe. It wasn’t the best start to the day. And it mirrored my week.

Determined to turn it around, I headed up to the loft for yoga practice before I began work…work I do for money, not something I’m especially connected to at the moment. Yoga helps.

After attending to work, I took my dog Buddy for his annual exam and was excited to have a beautiful late afternoon to fly fish after I dropped him off at home. But there was an emergency at the vet clinic and we had to wait to check out. And wait. And wait.

Almost an hour later than I planned, I settled Buddy in with Vern and grabbed my fly fishing gear. I drove to one of my favorite places to wade. After parking, the first thing I always do is pull out my boots, socks, and waders. But today, there were no waders. I left them hanging on my bathroom door from yesterday’s early evening fishing. In my hurry to have fun, I left an important piece of gear.

Bummer.

I was wearing capri tights and a short sleeve shirt because it was so warm. I guessed the water was warmer than the 55 of yesterday. The boots would be rather big without the neoprene feet of my wading pants. But what the heck? I could handle a little cold water…I’ve been excited that wet wading season is coming soon. But usually, I wear neoprene socks with my boots when not wearing waders. It was either forget it and go home, or deal with a little discomfort.

I stared at my rod tube, the waist pack full of yummy flies, the wading staff. I couldn’t leave. Not with clear skies, warm air, and water levels that were back to my comfort level. It wasn’t even a choice…I had to do it.

The boots were a little too big, even with the BOA cinched down as tight as I could screw it. And that first step into 60 degree water was a bit teeth clenching, but what an amazing two hours.

The fish were moody and teased me, but never committed. The wind was gusty and slightly annoying. But I made a decision to have fun and I did. Actually, I made that decision when I pulled on my thick, wool socks and boots. And when I dumped the cappuccino and started over. And when I practiced yoga before work.

I got some awesome casting practice in the wind and visited places that aren’t that fishy but have large, open casting spaces free from tree limbs…not easy to find on the streams where I fish.

As fun as it was, my feet needed to get warm. After nearly two hours, I headed for the car. When I pulled off the boots and soggy socks, I noticed my feet were, in fact, quite numb. Good call to head to the house. But good call to fish, too.

Hours later I noticed how amazing I felt. The stinky attitude I’d had lately had been washed away with the cold water. I think the stink bugs in my cup were a reflection of my funk this week. I could have remained in that grumpy place when I realized my waders were at home; but, I decided to just give it a try. And that decision shifted everything.

We have choice….every moment. What will you choose?

Today was a huge reminder of how fly fishing has changed my life for the better and why I’m working and playing hard to be a guide for women that want to Explore….and Emerge. My next step? A day with my mentor on the water…and then a weekend of Wilderness First Aid with NOLS.