I found fly fishing thanks in part to someone who mentioned women could be naturally good at it, and I realized there are articles online to that effect. I wanted to try it. I think when some people say they’d like to try something, and they really mean it, they still never get to do it. I needed to know how it felt, so I followed through and I’m thankful for the experience.
I’ve been on several trips now, the first being to the Tellico River in Tennessee, followed by various attempts at the Hiwassee River, the Tennessee River, and finally returning to Tellico the weekend before last for a girls’ trip with a couple friends. It was fun to be out there with them for their first go, and they liked it. I also took casting lessons one day last summer, which helped, and I tied my first fly a couple months ago at a local “fly tying” night. I’m especially proud of my crane fly replica, so I’ll probably never use it. My embroidery skills transferred a bit that night, and my focus felt unbreakable, even while sitting at a bar with lots of people around, ambient noise and a fish tank impeding my line of sight to the instructor. Some prior version of me would have struggled, or quietly slipped away early with a half-completed fly, but I was zoned in and totally calm for nearly 3 hours. It was relaxing and I met nice people.
A similar focus occurred each time I was actually fishing. It was better and more fun to go with others, but once out there, it still felt like solitude. Most recently, toward the end of the day, our guide put me in a more open area of the river where I could do more of what I call the “sky painting” casts without having to worry about tree branches. I felt an unreal level of calm and focus that was amazing, and it was matched by an unreal level of tiredness later from walking through a river in my waders and standing in water up to my thighs. In fact, I was so tired, that night I left my keys on the front porch overnight. Thankfully nobody bothered them and all was well; I made it to church the next morning quite thankful.
Before that trip, I told my friends I’d be happy if I finally caught my first brown trout because one had stolen my fly up there last time, and I’d caught only rainbow trout. Sure enough, my first fish of the day was my first brown trout and I was genuinely amazed. I didn’t pray about catching it, but God knew I’d like it and that I’d know who sent it. I felt comforted, like He dropped it into my morning.
Maybe I’ll continue fly fishing; I can’t set it next to anything else I do. There were several times during the most recent trip when I wanted to stop and try to paint the scenery, even though I obviously had no paints. I kept mentioning that to my friends. I think painting is imposing choices on your paper; fly fishing is aligning with what’s already happening in the water. I like painting and just finished a watercolor class, so now I think about how to paint things I see. I just don’t know about going back without my waders or pole specifically to paint. Maybe.
Some of my family members enjoy quail hunting, but apart from the pretty dogs, I have no real interest in hunting. I’m far more likely to stick with fly fishing, especially the more my friends enjoy it too. So, I’ve been pioneering my own educational process and I’m starting to see results, because it seems like fly fishing is better.
