the dharma blog

Fishing on the brain…

As of me beginning this post, there are 0 days 14 hours and 38 minutes left until the opening of the Wisconsin early catch-and-release season. At 5:00 a.m. tomorrow, my nearest and dearest trout rivers open up. There are anglers that will undoubtedly be on the stream at that hour to be the first people to get their feet wet, to put an artificial fly in front of fish that haven’t seen one since the end of the season last Sept. 30.

Not me. As much as I’ve been mentally and literally counting down the hours for months now, I think I can wait one more day. I’m going to go out on Sunday and leave tomorrow to the hordes of real fishermen.

The other night I journalled a bit about where I feel like I am as a fly-fisherman. I thought it would be useful because these kinds of things tend to change so subtly that by the end of this year, I’m guessing I’ll be a much different fisherman, and I’ll probably have a hard time remembering what I was like at this point. At the end of the last season, I also wrote some rambling notes.

All that rambling from the other night will stay in the journal. It’s a good spot for it. It can be summed up as this: I’m still a beginner fly-fisherman in almost every respect. And I’m okay with that.

Wednesday night I geeked out a bit and dragged all my fishing gear upstairs. I emptied out my entire vest, threw away a bunch of garbage, took all the flies off my patch and organized my sad little fly boxes. Dries, caddis and mayfly nymphs, scuds. I wrote down a little shopping list and I’m going to the fly shop (Summit Fly Fishing Company, to be exact) tonight or tomorrow. Because this post is nothing but a ramble, here’s my list:

1. 5x tippet
2. leaders (9ft, 4, 5 and 6x)
3. non-lead shot (last year I got lead stuff and felt guilty all season)
4. loon outdoors strike putty (had orvis non-biodegradable stuff last year, again, guilt)
5. one of those handy posts that holds tippet spools with a floatant holder on the bottom

A pretty humble list, I think. I might pick up a few flies too, unless I can con Gabe into hooking me up with a few (he’s working all weekend and can’t fish with me).

I’ll make the run to the shop tonight or tomorrow and at some point I’ll have to crimp all the barbs on my hooks (catch-and-release season requires barbless hooks).

Sunday, I’m going to try to leave by 8:00. I’ll have some bread and cheese in the big back pocket of my vest and might indulge in a McDonald’s breakfast on the ride out. There will certainly be coffee.

The river I’m going to is not one I’ve fished very often. I’m going to fish it because it’s not a great trout stream – though it is a good trout stream – but because nobody else fishes it and I really don’t want to experience combat fishing my first day out this season. I’m going to fish this river much lower in its course than most rivers I fish. I won’t be but a mile from where it dumps into the Mississippi. The valley is broad there, but still intimate, with farms on the bottom and steep ridges along either side.

A week ago, I didn’t think I’d even go out fishing this weekend. The forecasted high was still supposed to just above freezing and I nobly told myself, To all there is a season. Well, that forecasted high has steadily risen as the week has gone by and now I’m blessed with something around 47°, damn fine fishing weather.

I expect whatever skills I did gain last season will be in pretty rough shape when I hit the stream on Sunday. I will get horrendous wind knots in my leader. I will lose embarrassing numbers of flies to the trees. I will stumble along the bank, spooking fish, threatening to break gear. I will do all this and more.

But I expect to enjoy it. I think that really important to that is to take it slow. As much as I’ve daydreamed about this season’s first strike, first fish landed, right now I’m not feeling the urge so much to go out and beat the water to a froth. More, I’m just feeling like strolling along the bank, looking at the water, looking at the still-frozen banks, spending some time watching a good hole and then some time fishing it. If I catch a fish, I’ll step back and smile a little, then find a good cozy spot on the bank where I might even start a little twig fire. Then, I’ll smoke a pipe and stare across the floor of the valley.