It’s time to go fishing. It’s been too long since I’ve thrashed the water with a fly line. I’m thinking it’s time to call in fishin’ at work and head for the beaver ponds while the boys are still off at college. Yeah, I feel a little guilty about going fishing without my sidekicks, but when fishing season comes around, it’s every man for himself.
I need to go fly-fishing much more often than I’ve been able to go in recent years. It keeps me sane. I need the steady rhythm of the cast, the peaceful quiet of the backcountry, and the occasional flurry of excitement when a fish strikes to get my mind off of work, politics, and other causes of stress. And in my case, there’s the added benefit of snagging myself in the back of the neck on a mistimed switch from backcast to forecast. You can’t think about politics or the drama of the office when you have a No. 18 prince nymph wedged past the barb in that really sensitive spot just above your collar and below your ear.
There’s also the solitude of a peaceful spot out in the backcountry, with no other humans around. And the amazing thing is that you don’t have to hike very far to get away from all the other people. Most folks tend to stick close to the roads and don’t venture too far into the woods, so you only have to walk a mile or so in before you find yourself all alone. If you do run into someone back there, that person is probably there to get away from other people, too, so they’ll mosey off in another direction and leave you to your solitude.
Get out to your favorite spot on the water soon. Find yourself some real estate you can call your own for a few hours, and just get to fishing.
