Reading And Navel Gazing

[Al Agnew]

I've been reading flyfishing books again. Someday there should be a serious psychological study of flyfishing that explains why so many authors of books on the subject use the fishing as a springboard for examining their deepest and strangest quirks and foibles. Once in a while, though, an author says something about themselves that really hits home.

I was reading "Bright Rivers, a Celebration of Rivers and Fly-fishing", by Nick Lyons, for the first time the other day. My wife and I were sitting in our little portable hot tub as the sun's morning light first touched the waters of the Yellowstone River in front of the house when I read this passage, which struck me enough to read it aloud to Mary.

"The urge for privacy and pleasure and complete freedom from the connections that lead us to compete makes me a dismal friend along rivers. No sooner do I see moving water--its currents tangled and alive, its surface creased with the rings of rising trout--than I am lost, quite lost. The urge for expertness vanishes and I feel few of the juices of genial angling brotherhood well up inside me. I don't want to speak. I don't want to share my thoughts or my pool. I don't want to prove. I want no fishing friends, expert or not, near me.

I watch the water, then the world above and around it, make my calculations, and want to be quickly about the business of fishing. That's what I've come for, that and the solitude. If I take someone, I'm compelled to give him the best position in the pool--and to regret it all day--or not to give him the best position in the pool--and to regret it all day..."

That's me. Well, maybe not quite. I CAN enjoy fishing in the company of others. But it takes an adjustment to my mindset. And at some point during a day of fishing with friends, there will often come that time when I move away from the others to fish in solitude for a bit. Maybe I'm on a float, as I was a few weeks ago with two other guys. I'm in my solo canoe, and I notice that I'm around the bend, a little ahead of or behind the other two, and suddenly I feel lighter and freer, my fishing senses sharpen, and I fish with a different kind of joyousness.

Other than that, however, the description fits perfectly. When I pull up to the put-in for a float and see the water beckoning, I can't get the canoe off the car fast enough, I can't get my rods rigged quickly enough, I can't wait to slide the canoe in, make a couple of paddle strokes, and make that first cast. I'm afraid, somehow, that somebody else will arrive, throw a canoe in the river, and get ahead of me. If I'm fishing with a familiar partner, I always offer to take the back of the canoe first, but am secretly happy if he says he'll take it and don't argue. If fishing with somebody that is less experienced, the urge to hog the front of the canoe competes with the worry that he won't be able to handle the craft well enough for me to fish efficiently, so in that case I usually take the back of the canoe all day, not to be nice to him, but to insure that we fish the way I want to fish.

My best Montana fly-fishing friend Tom, who has been a successful guide, always says that he loves rowing the boat with a good angler in front, because he gets just as much satisfaction from putting them in position to catch fish. At the same time, guiding a novice angler is infinitely frustrating to him because he simply can't stand to see "good water wasted". If the angler makes a bad cast or neglects to hit a good spot, Tom can't stand it.

I can't either. But fishing Ozark streams from a canoe is vastly different from fishing Montana rivers in a drift boat. In the back of the canoe, I can usually fish while keeping the boat in position, and I can hit the spot the guy up front misses. I love watching a good angler cover the water as we float, but by golly, if he doesn't cover it to my satisfaction I will.

When I fish with my brother, he spends more time in the front than I do, but he also skips good spots fairly regularly. Not the very best spots, mind you, but fishy-looking spots nonetheless. For a while I thought he was missing them just because he's less experienced at fishing rivers than at pounding lakes from a bass boat. But then it dawned upon me that he never missed the best spots, just decent ones. He's too good an angler to miss as many good lies as he does, and it finally struck me that he was purposely leaving some virgin water for me to fish from the back, knowing that I wouldn't miss them. And then it further struck me that when I'm in the front of the canoe, I'm pathologically unable to pass up a single spot that I can reach. Not for me the gentlemanly thing to leave a spot for my partner to fish.

My single-minded pursuit of fish is probably some kind of major character flaw. There are many times when I suddenly realize that I'm floating a gorgeous river, one that not only is achingly beautiful but could furnish a lot of reference for my artwork, but I haven't lifted my eyes from the water in front of me for the last two miles, constantly either casting or looking for where to place the next cast or how far I have to go before I get back into fishable water. I can keep up a conversation while doing so, but I can only talk to myself while still feeling like I'm at the top of my game at covering the water.

Which is why I should be considered a distinctly anti-social angler.

On the other hand, consider this quote from Nick's book just a paragraph or two later.

"But once off the rivers, once out of the maelstrom of quiet passion, I'm all ears. I can't get enough fish talk. And since I'm off considerably more than I'm on, I've discovered that a large portion of my delight in angling comes not on the stream at all or even in print, or even in tinkering with my tackle, but in talking or corresponding with friends who also love rivers. Some of them--among them my best friends--I've never even met."

This was written well before the advent of the internet. I suspect that Nick might be like me if he ever learned to use the net--apparently he still types his articles and books on a manual typewriter. I can't get enough "talk", either, but a lot of my interactions with other anglers happens on the net. Perhaps that's even better evidence that I'm anti-social, but I don't think so. To be honest, there aren't all that many of my personal acquaintances outside the world wide web that have the same passion for this sport that I do, but on the net there are many who share it. Which is why I spend more time than I probably should on this computer typing things like this and reading what others have typed. I feel like some of my own best friends are people on here that I've yet to meet in person. And very few of those I've finally met on the river have disappointed. This fraternity of river anglers is drawn closer together by the web than they ever could have been without it, and those of us who are anti-social on the river but need like-minded companionship off it have benefited immensely.

I turn 60 years old in a few weeks, so I don't expect to change much from the way I am. I'll continue to grudgingly enjoy fishing with others, but I'll always have that need to be on the river alone, nobody with which to have to make conversation, share water, or accommodate their schedule. And I'll continue to converse avidly with people like myself on pages like this because, if I can never get enough of fishing, I can also never get enough of talking about it.

[Daryk Campbell Sr]

Very well put. (as always)

[Guest]

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[jdmidwest]

I am lost. I thought there would be something about navels somewhere in the thread.

Nothing like a tight firm ab with a nice navel and maybe some naughty belly button jewelry whilst reading to distract you from what you were going to say in the first place.

[ruthead]

Thankyou!

[Mitch f]

Well Al, it's funny, the thing that my brother and I enjoy about fishing with each other is that we don't have to worry about a long embarrassing silence between conversations. I like fishing with you for the same reason. I also very aware of the fact you like the solo canoe but appreciate your offer of me getting into a tandem with you, but I know that you are being nice but secretly want me to say no I actually do the same thing.

I'm very happy to unite people onThis forum and hope some of you have noticed that. My thrill is to be around like minded people who are passionate about fishing. I'm not the greatest fisherman around but I truly learn something from each and every person I fish with.

[Mark]

One thing I have never been able to master is fishing alone. On fishing trips, I do take time to get off by myself to fish. But I enjoy company when I am recreating - whether it is fishing, golf, or drinking a few cold ones. I went on a couple 3 day solo floats by myself when I bought my canoe and it just isn't as much fun by myself. I would much rather have a friend or two along. Probably why I don't hunt - to me it's boring.