Rejuvenation

It was the 24th of December. A light, clean blanket of snow had carpeted the landscape and dressed the trees. It hadn't yet been sullied by the boot prints of other people; I was the first to disrupt the scene. Traversing the steep slope down to the creek, everything was tranquil and there. When I slipped my boots into the dark, cold water reached into the fabrics and padding and strained against neoprene, slowly but surely sucking the heat out. 

I'd been away from this water for a long while for a variety of reasons. The few times I had been in the last couple years never felt right. The fishing was in a bad way and so was I. If I'm unable to enjoy my time in a special place there's not much sense in being there right then. This time though the magic seemed to have returned. Perhaps it was just wonderful wintertime lack of disturbance. Spring and summer are easy and comfortable. So people that aren't really anglers are out fishing. During the early eruption of the pandemic there were more people than I cared to see down in this creek, which is frankly anyone that isn't me or the occasional friend I've invited with me. In the winter I can be assured solitude. 

As I made my first casts my mind wandered back to other moments casting into the same water: fish I'd lost, fished I'd landed... strong spring hatches, fall streamer bites. I'd done an awful lot here over the years. A take jolted me back to present. I of course missed it, I'd been day dreaming. Refocused, I worked the water in front of my carefully and thoroughly until my leader paused in the right sort of way and I set the hook on a wild brown trout. Then I kept doing that until it felt completely right again.

None of the fish I caught were really that impressive in the grand scheme of things. They weren't especially large, nor did they fight notably hard. I was in awe of them though, vocally so. I caught myself quietly saying "wow, what an animal" just under my breath when I let a long-faced male brown of about 14 inches slip back into the current. I think that's important. Don't take a good fish for granted- and I mean of any species -or you'll forever be frustrated. And let's be honest here, with very, very few exceptions there really isn't a bad fish out there.

I've been reminding myself of these lessons a lot lately, but on this day it was particularly important because I was on my home water. I'd grown far apart from my home water for a while. I haven't even been living particularly near it. I'll never fish it as hard as I used to, nor do I need to. But it would also be a shame to lose that connection. This reminded me how many connections I had in fact lost. There are a lot of places I used to fish hard that I haven't in years, places with wonderful memories and amazing fish. Sometimes looking for something bigger and better pulls too hard. Don't lose sight of the gems you found when everything was new and fresh. They're still very special. 

I followed my own tracks out that day feeling a lot better than I had in a while. I stopped on the path to look at the footprints small birds had made around some seedy grasses. They'd turned the surface of the snow into a swirling, streaking painting. It was wonderful. Take nothing for granted. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

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