A View From The Perch

I’m struggling. I moved to Colorado a few months ago, and I’m struggling to fish the local rivers. I’m not used to walking on moss-covered stones as the river rages, casting into the wind while trying to avoid the trees and brush.

I caught several fish on my first outing in my new state but have not netted one since.

About a month ago, I fished the Arkansas, and it felt like I was learning to walk again. The Arkansas is known for white water rafting; my outing was a disaster. I had several wind knots and kept snagging the fly on my clothes. I also fell into the river several times, leading to a new rule. Do not fish a river known for white water rafting.

I went fishing today on the South Platte. It was a gorgeous morning in a beautiful location. About fifteen minutes into my excursion, the butt of my expensive Orvis rod fell off, then my more expensive reel dropped into the river. For a brief moment, I contemplated leaving my rod and reel nestled among the moss-covered river stones for generations of trout to gloat over, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

After fishing my reel out of the river and awkwardly reeling in my line, I waded to the shore, got in my car, and drove to the nearest fly shop.

At the fly shop, the workers looked at my rod and turned it over as if they were looking at the Hope Diamond. They declared they had never seen the butt of a fly rod come undone, which made me feel proud at some level.

Fishing in Austin is different than in Colorado. In Austin, I fished water still as the night, dark as coffee, and thick as maple syrup while standing on soft sand. I cast a giant hopper to bass and blue gill, eagerly waiting for the fly-like kids on a playground playing three-flies up.

I should quit, but quitting is easy. Instead, I will continue to cast and learn, and one day, I will pull numerous trout out of the river.

Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. ~ Various Sages