Fishing

Fishing. It's something I need to do. It's also a want, but, like hiking, slacklining, and backpacking, and to a certain extent, climbing, it's something I need. I need it to keep me sane. Not that I'm saying I should be admitted to an asylum.
It's the running of the water. A slow current where the river is totally silent, and I'm left with the sounds of bird calls, or a slight breeze through the grass and trees. A slow riffle and it's trickle. Raging rapids. A towering waterfall. They are all some of my favorite sounds.
There's a sort of moving meditation to wading through the river. To casting a loop of line with a fly at the end. The movement of the rod, and the fly landing lightly on the water.
When I'm on the river, I'm able to clear my mind, and either leave it clear and not think about anything in particular, or spend my time on the water thinking and pondering over things that may be weighing on my mind.
I always tell people I don't need to catch fish to have fun fishing. It may seem cheesy, but I don't fish to catch fish. At least not all the time. But it is an excellent benefit.

I Fish Because I love To

"I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always tastes better out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I supspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant--and not nearly so much fun.

--Robert Traver (a.k.a. Judge John Voelker), Trout Madness

Flies

Yesterday I went fishing up Logan Canyon again. Before I hit the river, I went to the local fly shop to get a few flies I was lacking material for to tie myself. Turns out the reason I've been having such bad luck is because I've been going too far up the canyon, and into Brook Trout territory, who, evidently, become quite lethargic and don't like to feed much this time of year. So, I took the advice of the guys at the fly shop and stayed much lower in the canyon where the Browns like to hang out. I went a little past Second Dam, and fished a while with no success, even though I could see the fish in the water. I tried a few different fly patterns, both dry and nymphs, but they still didn't want to bite. After fishing about 200 yards upstream, I went back to where I entered the river, and started fishing downstream. About 60 yards down, I a few hard rises, and after one bad cast, and then one well placed cast, I saw the fish rise. I set the hook, and I knew I had him. He (or she; I don't know how to tell the sex of the fish yet) turned out to be just a young 8 inch Brown, but after 2 weeks of no fish, I finally felt better. And I was even more happy since I'd caught it on one of my own flies. I haven't figured out how to photograph the fish I catch myself—at least the ones I don't keep—so I don't have any pictures of the fish, but at least here's a photograph of the fly I caught it on (size 18 Henry's Fork Hackle Midge):

And since I was already set up for that photograph, I decided to make another (this fly I didn't tie—it was one of the ones I bought yesterday):

 

Logan River

Lately I've been getting out fishing up on the Logan River after work and on the weekends, and with the change in daylight savings time, it's made fishing after work a lot more fun. Although I haven't been able to convince any of the fish to bite on the fur, feathers, and thread tied on a hook quite yet, it's still really enjoyable to be out on the river after not having fly fished in several years.

After I got done fishing this stretch of the river, I had to come back to photograph it.