Fishing : An Introspective View

Some view fishing as an art, the endless pursuit of perfection in form and technique that is never mastered; an art in which even the seasoned angler is forever an apprentice.  Some view fishing as a game of chess, the fisherman constantly trying to outsmart their opponent in a beautiful game of deception.  Many more view fishing as boring and uninteresting; a waiting game involving chance and patience - and therein lies a great misconception.  At times, I think the sport can be all of the above, but mostly I view fishing as the perfect time for quiet introspection.  The seclusion of the outdoors is what keeps me coming back for more, and the one on one time it provides with family and friends is irreplaceable.  I have had more meaningful conversations with friends and family while in the outdoors than all other places combined.  I have learned more about myself in the peaceful seclusion of the outdoors than I ever have in a classroom or the private recesses of my home.

                 "Many go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not the fish they are after."  

                              - Henry David Thoreau

A beautiful sunset on the Snake River

There are times when everything comes together in a surreal and beautiful way - when time seems to stop, and for a brief, fleeting moment...the entire world seems at peace.  The imagery of those moments are etched into my mind forever,  and the only thing more treasured than those memories is the assurance I have knowing that every time I step into God's country there are many more to follow.  One such moment came, as they all seemingly do, abruptly and unexpectedly.  

My wife Jennifer and I were expecting our first child, and with her delivery date approaching we wanted to spend some quality time together prior to the big day.  Many of my favorite fishing destinations aren't particularly inviting to an expectant mother, so we opted for a conveniently located pond just outside of Roberts, Idaho.  We arrived shortly after 3 o'clock in the afternoon with lawn chairs and a portable grill in hand, prepared to spend the evening grilling and talking, watching bobbers on the water in case an unsuspecting perch or trout happened along.  No sooner had we cast our lines and lit the grill when a late summer rainstorm blew in.  We frantically dashed for our car, where we sat soaking wet, laughing at the irony of it all considering the months long drought Idaho had been in.  As I glanced back our gear taking a pounding in the rain, I noticed my bobber bouncing along erratically in the waves.  Laughing, I leapt from the shelter of our car and clammered down the sandy bank to the fishing pole 30 yards away.  With a swift jerk I set the hook on a small yellow perch that the pond was known for.  I stood triumphantly in the sideways rain, holding  up my pitiful yellow perch for my wife to marvel at sarcastically.  Two more fish were caught in the same manner.

As quickly as the storm arrived, it left.  As the clouds cleared and the winds calmed we strode down to the bank, marveling at the beauty around us.  As the sun sank down over the horizon, it cast the most beautiful shades of orange and pink across the thunder clouds behind us.  As we stood in awe, the fishing turned on like a light.  For the next hour, we did something I'd only heard rumors of - we caught the elusive channel catfish in Roberts Gravel Pond.  One after another, we pulled in fish that hadn't been stocked in these waters for years.  

Roberts Gravel Pond

While attempting to rebait one rod while my wife caught fish with the other, I glanced up for one perfect moment.  Jennifer had been clumsily casting her line all evening with my hopeless coaching, but not this time.  Her tackle sailed over the glass-like water, and the only audible noise aside from distant crickets was the sound of her line sailing through the guides on her fishing rod.  As the tackle landed in the water it sent ripples across the darkening water, reflecting the sunset across the water like millions of tiny diamonds.  She turned back to see me standing on the bank with worm guts all over my hands in my sopping wet clothing, smiling.  As she smiled back, I recalled the very thing that brings me into the outdoors...the assurance I have knowing that every time I step into God's country there are many more moments just like this to follow...