One of the first lessons I received when learning to fly fish was confidence. "You've got to have confidence in that fly, in yourself," Jacob's words have remained with me all these years. It's why I fish certain patterns, choose long casts over short rolls and why I move through the water the way I do. It's all about where my confidence lies.
It's a funny thing when you lose your confidence. Perhaps you've spent some time off the water or had one too many bad trips. Maybe it was caused by a harsh word or unfounded judgment by a fellow angler. Then again it may have just disappeared and you have no idea how it happened.
For a while now my life has been filled with surgery, doctor's visits, high water, and more doctor's visits, with strict orders to stay out of the rivers and off the mountains. My body became fatigued during the process and my mind weak, resulting in a catastrophic lack of confidence.
Odd Ways
On Thanksgiving morning Jacob got a phone call from a fellow rod builder, just to say "hi," happy thanksgiving, and to see if he'd gotten some supplies that were recently dropped in the mail. The conversation turned, inevitably, to what our dinner plans were for the day.
"We're gonna go fishing."
"That's kind of an odd way to spend the day..."
That comment stuck with me all day. Mostly because I wondered if our "odd" ways were possibly a bit too odd.
We spent the entire day, knee deep in cold water, throwing wet flies and catching an array of football shaped brookies and rainbows. We were basically the only two on the water, and it was pretty great. We finished up the day eating frozen pizza, Jacob heading downstairs to plane out a rod and I found my way to the sewing room to pop out some "hurry up" orders.
It wasn't what you'd call a conventional Thanksgiving. We didn't have any turkey or watch any football. We didn't pull dressy clothes out of the back corner of the closet. We didn't spend the day with relatives we rarely talk to out of obligation. Instead, we spent the day doing what we're most thankful for with the one we're most thankful for.
I'd say that's a pretty good day.
Thankful Thursday {10-19-17}
Fall had finally made its way to Western North Carolina. The 38-degree weather crept in through the open bedroom window, causing a simultaneous reaction of wanting to stay under the warm comforter and eagerness to hit the water.
It had been three long weeks with no personal fishing.
Read moreSummertime Fishing
Every stream is different, every day is different, and every outcome is different.
Read moreThe Best Fishing Trips
Sunday morning there was a chill in the air. An actual, honest-to-god, chill in the air! The black coffee smelled and tasted so good in that crisp air and my flannel shirt felt so comfortable.
This summer has been unbearable. It's been too hot to move. The humidity has been thick and heavy hanging around with no relief.
Forests have been shut down because of crazy people.
Guide trips have consumed whole seven day weeks with no sign of relief.
The "tubber" and swimming hole hatches have been abounding.
Summer has been unbearable.
But, Sunday morning...
There was just enough of a change in the air to get you going and really get you excited about the day. The roads led us up and around into Pisgah, to views we hadn't seen in a while and rivers our feet hadn't touched. We picked a little stream close to a trail head but arrived before any hikers or any other anglers. It was calm and quiet and just what we needed.
The most beautiful sight of all was all the little rainbows! Ranging in size from too small to even bite the fly to eight inches, all bubbling up all around us. All so ambitious you had to stop and admire their tenacity.
For me, the best fishing trips are not the record breaking ones or the "exotic" ones, but rather the ones that make you sit back, slow down, and simply admire everything that's around you. I try my hardest to make every fishing trip, every hike like that, but I'm easily distracted by all the noise.
I needed a cool, quite day if just to block out the noise.
Bargains
I've recently taken up the act of bargaining with nature. It's silly and futile and I'll never win, but I keep trying.
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