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Monday, November 17 2008
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Replacing the Fishing Vest
Friday, August 1 2008
Better Fishing Through Global Chaos
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Of Ducks and Men - Illustrated
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Understanding appearances
Wednesday, September 6. 2006
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I've heard this 'catching is secondary to the total experience' philosophy from 2 kinds of fishermen: flyfishermen, particularly those who pursue the salmonids, and old men. I haven't (yet) taken up the long rod, and have little regard for trout, but I did just turn 60, and have begun to see the wisdom of stopping to smell the roses along the way! Fly fishermen have less need to catch because it's so damn hard to just cast the line and fly, so that becomes sufficient satisfaction by itself once mastered, or at least during practice streamside. And old men have less need to catch because, well, we've done so much of it by now. It doesn't seem to get old though, does it?
Dave
Dave
Dave,
You make two good points, certainly some fishermen can get involved in all the correllaries -- tying flies, making rods, casting -- and forget the original intent of the exercise, which is fishing. That's fine. And often there is a timeline of the development of fisherman from needing many fish, to big fish, to difficult fish, to just fishing.
However, catching fish has always been just one part of fishing for me, even as a kid. I enjoyed the outdoors, the search for the new pond/stream/pool, good companionship, the struggle to get back the oar that drifted away after falling from the broken oarlock -- all of it.
Reed
You make two good points, certainly some fishermen can get involved in all the correllaries -- tying flies, making rods, casting -- and forget the original intent of the exercise, which is fishing. That's fine. And often there is a timeline of the development of fisherman from needing many fish, to big fish, to difficult fish, to just fishing.
However, catching fish has always been just one part of fishing for me, even as a kid. I enjoyed the outdoors, the search for the new pond/stream/pool, good companionship, the struggle to get back the oar that drifted away after falling from the broken oarlock -- all of it.
Reed
Reed, you have the evolution of fishing interests nailed down, in my experience; I just kinda skipped the 'difficult fish' phase. But I often fish for warmwater spp with 2 guys who are exceptional, lifelong fly fishermen, good enough to teach and guide. In the last year both of them - they are in their 40s - have shocked me by professing a need to pursue other spp, much more difficult to catch than creek smallmouth (they can be almost easy at times), e.g., carp, catfish, suckers, stiped bass etc. Some of this 'fishing' is even being done with (gasp) spinning/casting gear, and even bait!
I haven't tired of small flow wading for anything that bites ultralight spin stuff however, and no longer care how big the fish are. But I'm not dunking bait for flatheads, although I might watch!
dave
PS. A big flathead is a frightening creature, enough to break a fly rod--
I haven't tired of small flow wading for anything that bites ultralight spin stuff however, and no longer care how big the fish are. But I'm not dunking bait for flatheads, although I might watch!
dave
PS. A big flathead is a frightening creature, enough to break a fly rod--
Flatheads are, indeed, formidable and frightening creatures. I believe that they, for a fly fisherman, are the freshwater equivalent of the bluefin tuna - the ultimate quarry. Truth be told, they are so incredibly difficult to capture on a bit of fluff and a turn of tinsel that the vast majority of fly fisherman will shake their heads and mutter "why?" That's precisely why I, and a certain other fellow, are so drawn to the chase. We'll do it because it's hard.
I've got to admit that I've been aware of the four phases of fishing since I took up the sport more than forty years ago. My fascination has been fickle when it came to species, but I've not worried about how many fish - or, indeed how big, in many years. Simply being alive and aware and able to understand the fulfillment of the act is enough.
And Reed, to your point, I've become "involved in all the correllaries -- tying flies, making rods, casting" not because I've forgotten the the original intent of the exercise, but because I wish to hold it dear and honor that intent. You see, I've come to know that the essence of fishing is the moment when thought ceases and only awareness is left.
Some reach this through prayer, others through meditation, and still others through grueling physical exertion. I, and many I know, have found this reward in that moment of connection with a wild thing; unseen, untouched, untarnished.
Joe C.
I've got to admit that I've been aware of the four phases of fishing since I took up the sport more than forty years ago. My fascination has been fickle when it came to species, but I've not worried about how many fish - or, indeed how big, in many years. Simply being alive and aware and able to understand the fulfillment of the act is enough.
And Reed, to your point, I've become "involved in all the correllaries -- tying flies, making rods, casting" not because I've forgotten the the original intent of the exercise, but because I wish to hold it dear and honor that intent. You see, I've come to know that the essence of fishing is the moment when thought ceases and only awareness is left.
Some reach this through prayer, others through meditation, and still others through grueling physical exertion. I, and many I know, have found this reward in that moment of connection with a wild thing; unseen, untouched, untarnished.
Joe C.
Joe,
I know nothing about flathead catfish except for the photos in Field & Stream in my tender years. That I slept after seeing them is the reward for a good constitution.
I, too, tie flies, make rods, and (approximate) casting. This in no way impedes my enjoyment of the overall fishing experience (though if you saw me casting, you might disagree). I don't know that thought must cease for me within the fishing experience, but certainly time can slow and an awareness of the surroundings is heightened as I said in another article...
"Once I've waded out into the fast water and felt the pressure against my legs, and have my feet well planted in the odd patch of sand between rocks... the roar of the traffic fades away, the knowledge of humanity flashing past above disappears, and I am alone on the river. I am aware of my surroundings, more aware than when I first arrived, but the perceptions are selective; a macro lens has been fitted to my mind, the details of the wet rocks, the splash of the water, the hiss of the flyline... these all jump into relief. I am truly "There" for a time, just as when, at age twelve, my fishing buddy and I would bike in the pre-dawn hours to a muddy, polluted slough bordered by a cow pasture, or a millpond in the center of town, surrounded by parking lots. Those "fishing holes" were idyllic spots, though discarded wrappers from a nearby take-out joint would blow across the pasture and get caught in the cow turds; and broken beer bottles were more in evidence on the shores of the millpond than grass, we really never noticed these things, more significant matters deserved our attention -- perhaps a water strider, newt, or carp."
In one sense the world becomes unfocussed and you receive the gestalt, yet again some elements gain sharper focus. Curiouser and curiouser.
Reed
PS -- I like your website, Joe.
I know nothing about flathead catfish except for the photos in Field & Stream in my tender years. That I slept after seeing them is the reward for a good constitution.
I, too, tie flies, make rods, and (approximate) casting. This in no way impedes my enjoyment of the overall fishing experience (though if you saw me casting, you might disagree). I don't know that thought must cease for me within the fishing experience, but certainly time can slow and an awareness of the surroundings is heightened as I said in another article...
"Once I've waded out into the fast water and felt the pressure against my legs, and have my feet well planted in the odd patch of sand between rocks... the roar of the traffic fades away, the knowledge of humanity flashing past above disappears, and I am alone on the river. I am aware of my surroundings, more aware than when I first arrived, but the perceptions are selective; a macro lens has been fitted to my mind, the details of the wet rocks, the splash of the water, the hiss of the flyline... these all jump into relief. I am truly "There" for a time, just as when, at age twelve, my fishing buddy and I would bike in the pre-dawn hours to a muddy, polluted slough bordered by a cow pasture, or a millpond in the center of town, surrounded by parking lots. Those "fishing holes" were idyllic spots, though discarded wrappers from a nearby take-out joint would blow across the pasture and get caught in the cow turds; and broken beer bottles were more in evidence on the shores of the millpond than grass, we really never noticed these things, more significant matters deserved our attention -- perhaps a water strider, newt, or carp."
In one sense the world becomes unfocussed and you receive the gestalt, yet again some elements gain sharper focus. Curiouser and curiouser.
Reed
PS -- I like your website, Joe.
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