I haven’t been able to get to the streams because of weather and working, but I hope to soon. Meanwhile, Anthony Naples over at Castingaround.com has been busy putting together a little piece of collected works. Some of my poems and pictures are included in this project.
Thanks Anthony for your work and dedication to the project.
Here is a pdf file of his project:
Your Life As a River
Imagine your life as a river
You begin of the earth
Pouring out of the ground from a spring
You are born
You are untouched and unpolluted
You begin to flow and travel the course before you
Slowly everything adds to you
The pebbles, dirt, and roots that you slowly wash over and touch
In good ways and bad
Your spirit increases as others flow into you
And life swims in you and moves outside of you
And you nourish all those things too
You get older and change the landscape of the world
At times your spirit is slack
And at others times your spirit rages with swelling flows from the storms in your life
Eventually the river’s rage slowly tapers off
But your path is altered
Changed from your swollen rage
But it always keeps moving on
Your life just is
Life is always moving on
Don’t work too hard to be
You just are
Dams will always be thrown up in your path
Bridges will be built to bypass you
Your flow will converge with other flows
This is your life
And your spirit
And you know that it will end some day
Your life will be full of so many things
But your life will keep flowing forward
And in the distance, there will be the great sea
It is here that your spirit will flow out and mix with all the other great spirits
Your current will end
But then you will be everywhere
I couldn’t take another day indoors today, so I head out to check out a stream. I needed to see something green. I needed to see something that would help me remember that spring was near. The soothing sounds and signs of life helped to put the winter blues out of my mind. Even with tons of snow and ice, life abides.
Watercress growing green in the middle of winter.
After taking many photos and some film footage, I put it all together in a movie. Let me know what you think. I still think of myself as a total film amateur.
Old notes and drawings
In the early to mid-1990′s, I got my first fly fishing rod and went to it with little to no idea of what to do. My vehicle was a city bus pass or my mountain bike, so much of the practice that went into my learning fly fishing was in my head. No fly fishing opportunities existed on any of the bus routes or within biking distance. I wrote down notes and sought out any information that I could find. The internet was fairly new and I didn’t have it on my old black and white Mac Classic. Living in a big city had one major advantage- lots of libraries and I had a library card.
An old notebook of magazine and newspaper cuttings
Circa 1993-1995, I was constantly checking out every book that I could find on the subject of fly fishing and fly tying. Being an anti-social learner, I dug deep into those books and any magazines that I could find. I cut up magazines and newspapers with any hint of fly fishing in them, and I pasted them into notebooks. When the opportunity came about I was going to be ready.
The opportunities did come. I frequently visited my parents and requisitioned their car or I planned out small trips and rented a car. On my first car requisition, I went not far from my parents house to a small swampy pond in the middle of nowhere. The wind was horrible, and my casting not much better. I struggled and had a hard time focusing, but I kept trying. The good news was that even though I was a stranger in strange land with this bad outing, I managed to catch a 12” northern pike.
My brain soaked up a lot of information in those first years. Most of the notebooks are lost- only one remains and a few of my drawings (shown here). Now I live within biking distance of trout streams, and I own a car. I use the internet almost everyday to get my fly fishing fix of videos, gear reviews, or anything fly fishing related.
This season will mark my 20th year of owning a fly rod, and it amazes me how something so simple can change and direct your life. I was changed and maybe it brought out part of me that was always there too. Back then, it was a radical decision to buy that fly rod, and I’m sure some of my friends thought I was a little crazy and obsessed. However after 20 years, the fly fishing fire still burns stronger than ever.
Old drawings from a notebook. I think that the top fish image was a free hand copy of a Dave Whitlock drawing.
With the trout season not far away, I have rivers and fish on my mind, and this morning was no different. I awoke with words for a short poem and here they are.
Here is a litle movie from two hours of footage that I shot earlier this year. It wasn’t what I was trying for, but maybe you might enjoy it or maybe not.
School ended here not long ago, and with it came backpacks and bags of left over supplies and school papers. My nine-year-old daughter had several bags all by herself. One of the items that she brought home was an art project in the shape of a bucket with “My Summer Bucket List” written on it.
The first thing listed on her bucket list was “tie flies better than I do.” Nothing my daughter does ever surprises me because in a lot of ways, we think alike. She loves animals and nature, and I have always thought that she would love fly fishing. Also, fly fishing can be a deep sport by learning about habitat, entomology, and the skill needed to catch different fish, and my little girl is a deep deep thinker. Still, I was a bit surprised that it was her number one on her bucket list.
A few days later we decided to tie some flies, so we headed to my work shop. I have a big stool there and she quickly claimed it and sat upon it.
“What kind of fly do you want to tie?”
“Anything but foam Dad.”
She decided it would be a woolly bugger, so we both tied one side by side. She worked on my first tying vice and I worked on my rotating renzetti. She worked slow and methodical. At first she said that she didn’t want the fly we were tying, but as we got deep into the project, she declared that she wanted it.
After finishing a few flies, she ran to her room to get her fly box. Her fly box is one of my first attempts at making a wooden magnetic box. When I was unhappy with my creation, she quickly snagged it up for herself. It mostly contains flies that her brother made, and she acquired them by purchasing them from him.
Upon opening it, she started to reorganize them according to type. I was shocked at her ability to categorize them by sinking or floating or body shape. There were of course woolly buggers, some nymphs, and some floating flies. She quickly made a spot for her new flies, shut the box, and ran back to her room.
Her fly box and the fly she
really liked tying in front
A few days later, I asked to see her fly box and she let me. When I was done admiring all the little flies, she took out the first fly that we made the other day and said, “I really like this fly Dad.” The smile on her face just warmed my heart. She put her fly box back in its home in her room, a room that contains Barbies, too many stuffed animals, her piano keyboard, a picture of a horse, and lots of notebooks filled with many things. Ultimately, she will decide if she becomes a fly tier or fly fisher, but it’s wonderful to see her enjoy something that she created.
My wife and I have talked and agree that she should have her own fly tying set, so that will come next for her.
From a trip to the beach
A friend verbally shared this story with me over 16 years ago after she returned from a trip outside of the U.S. It has stuck with me over the years and it really speaks to me with its simplicity. It holds true to me in my place in life and it goes along well with the simplicity of Tenkara Fishing. So here goes…
The Fisherman on the Beach It’s just past noon and a man is a walking along the beach when he comes upon another man sitting and looking out at the water. He walks up to him and greets him. “Hello how are you today?” “I’m good. It sure is a beautiful day!” They both agree and they talk for a bit. Finally the man who found this other man on the beach asks him a question. “So what are you doing?” The man staring out at the water says, “Oh, I’m just sitting here and relaxing and staring out at the beautiful waves and sky and sun.” “Um, no I mean what do you do for a living?” “Ah, I’m a fisherman” “Nice, so do you have the day off?” “No, I was out fishing this morning and now I’m done.” The man asking the questions seems a bit perplexed, and says, “You’re done?” The fisherman says, “Yep. Isn’t it a great day. I just love the beach.” The questioner still seems perplexed and asks more questions. “Well, it’s still early in the day. You could be out catching more fish.” The fisherman is now a little perplexed too. “Why would I want to still be out there fishing?” With some excitement the man begins to explain why. “Well, if you’re out catching more fish, you could earn more money by selling the fish.” The fisherman starts rubbing his head and asks, “Why do I need more money?” At this the other man replies, “Well with more money, you could buy a bigger net and catch even more fish?” “I just don’t understand. Why do I need more fish?” “With more fish, you can get more money. Then maybe you could buy a bigger boat.” “My boat is fine. Why would I need a bigger boat?” “With a bigger boat, you could catch more fish and earn even more money. Eventually, you could earn enough money that you could hire other people to fish for you, so you could sit and enjoy the beach and the sun and the waves.” The fisherman stands up and looks at this person who seems to have all these ideas about his life and says, “But I already am sitting and enjoying the beach.”
Laying out my clothes for tomorrow
Have you ever worn an outfit that was made up of conflicting colors or patterns? Are there too many things in life that we try to keep in check?
When I first started fly fishing in the early nineties, I would make at least one trip a year to the Wolf River in Langlade County, Wisconsin. This is a large freestone river well used by kayaks and rafters and fly fishers. It runs through the Nicolet national forest and it has that strong feel of a wilderness river with plenty of solitude. The Wolf River was the first place that I experienced a huge blanket hatch. The dark evening sky was filled with millions of bugs, but none of them cared at all about me. They were there to reproduce.
Next to this wild river there lived a man. He had adapted his living room into his fly shop. The sliding deck door became his shop’s entrance. His bar had become his sales counter. What I remember most about this man was his great attitude and that he always seemed to be wearing double plaid. He always said that we could fish the river next to his house and he always loved to talk. His spirit was infectious, and his happiness was brighter than the sun.
This man passed away several years ago. I remember returning to his shop/ house and finding out of his passing. The world needed more people like him, so it was sad to me that he was gone.
My fishing friend and I always joked that we wanted to be someplace like that in our lives someday, and I spread this word to my future wife and others who would listen. Someday maybe, I would wear double plaid too.
At the time I lived in the heart of Milwaukee among all the chaos of a big city. Friends getting jumped and robbed. People passing away in their little apartments, but no one knowing for weeks. Sirens, car alarms, and just crazy stuff happening everywhere. Peace and double plaid sounded warm and inviting to my soul.
It’s been several years since I’ve visited the Wolf River, but I’m sure if I went, I would think of him. I’m not quite there in my life yet, but I do live in a more peaceful town where people say hi and mean it. I have great love for life, family, nature, kids, bugs, water…the list could go on and on. Double plaid is a state of mind to me, and it’s worth working toward. Peace can be in the future, but I think it can be now too. My nine-year-old daughter still wears conflicting outfits sometimes, and sometimes I just let her do it.
Digging through old notebooks I found this poem that I wrote for my wife when both of us worked and our kids were much younger.
If we had time, And no distractions, We’d be snuggling. We’d be wrapped up In each other- Like a warm bed. Oh we have love, And life, And new life. You and me. Me and you. Double plaid And redundant walks And smelling hair too. All I can still say Is from deep inside I love you.
I’m picky, but I believe that we should leave no trace of ourselves in the wild. When I am out in nature, I want to see nature and not evidence of people. Granted that I live in Wisconsin and not some remote wilderness or national forest, but when I venture out to lands designated for natural areas by the Department of Natural Resources, I like it to be natural.
I see so much waste out in the wild. I understand that the spring melt water has more than the usual debris, but it was a mild winter this year and there is still plenty of it. There’s the bait fisherman who leave the their bait container at the side of their fishing hole. The empty bottles and cans on the ground and the bottom of the stream bed. Once I fished a deep pocket with a submerged kiddy pool. Yesterday, I saw a rain gutter from a house on the side of the creek, and there is always fishing line within easy reach. Of course the hike to the river is never without evidence either. Gun shells, used condoms, one sandal, food wrappers, the milk crate in the middle of nowhere and you name it are always to be found.
I always say that humans are the worst beavers for their ability to take down all the trees and mess up a perfectly good area. I was taught to pick up after myself if you make a mess. This should be even more evident in nature.
That’s my gripe. Most of us get this, but the ones know don’t really stain that nature’s beauty moment.
Feel free to post your worst human beaver sign in the comments to share with everyone.
