I have been bugging my husband Joe to teach me to fly fish. As a young man it was a large part of his life and as a child I used to go on fishing trips with my family.
So, I liked to fish, eat fish and (still do) …I have fond memories of fishing and I think I remembered it as being fun(most of the time). Fishing was relaxing and I was pretty good at it. I caught some and ate what I caught.
The way we (my family) fished was very different from the romantic concept of learning to gracefully swirl the thin lasso of a fishing line above your head, set the lure down in just the perfect location and thereby executing a tantalizing attraction for the hungry prey beneath the waters surface. I am a romantic…and this is something I wanted to try.
So, Joe dug out two fly rods(and reels)ones he had gifted his father on fathers day long ago. We picked up supplies and headed out to explore a few streams with a current DNR fishing guide in hand.
On my first trip,we searched out and fished some of the designated areas. Walking within the natural beauty of a stream and navigating the rocky, or soft,muddy bottom, became the short term goal. I snagged the fly on many objects, my (too short) boots filled up with water and then, at last, I felt a strike on the line. This reminded me that I was fishing.
Then…I caught a fish. I knelt down in the stream and held the trout as I released it from the hook. A beautiful creature(too small for keeping).
Since that time, Joe and I have gone frequently to the rivers and streams nearby our home. The fishing is yet another way to be in the beauty of a natural world and enjoy each other and talk about the way that each of us had remembered family fishing.
The rods and reels from Joes past and the memories from mine resemble different ways of fishing…yet similar ways of sharing life.
ps. I really(do) love fly fishing