The Trout of a Lifetime

The Trout of a Lifetime

I was in desperate need of a hiatus from the fast-paced lifestyle of the corporate world and a day of fly-fishing on the river would be the prescription that I needed. As I packed my gear the evening before my trip, my thoughts were mixed between leaving my family behind and the need for time to myself. During the two-hour drive in the dark hours of the morning, my thoughts were of my family peacefully sleeping in our home and of them starting their morning with breakfast and cartoons. They will be grown and gone before I know it and I am missing out on a day with them by going fishing by myself.
The river that morning was peaceful and serene, and the morning fog still hung over the water. The only sound in the air on this cool, crisp morning is the trickling and bubbling of the cool spring water as it flows around rocks in the stream bed. The few fishermen that shared this small piece of the river stood almost motionless as they tied their flies on their lines; waiting with anticipation for the sound of the bell that indicated the beginning of the days’ fishing. This is exactly the peace and serenity I am in need of. As I wait, I think once again of my children, I reflect on my own life and allow my stress and worries from work to wash away downstream.
I had picked up fly-fishing just a couple of years earlier when I found a fly-rod and reel in my garage in a bundle of old fishing rods that I had inherited from my grandfather. After talking to a friend about the old rod I had found, he explained how much he enjoyed fly-fishing and he gave me a box of flies that he had tied, just to get me started. Once I started, I was “hooked”, I couldn’t get enough, I learned to tie my own flies and was successfully catching fish at the local ponds and lakes. But the glory would be mine if I could use what I had learned to catch a rainbow trout someday.
When the bell sounded that particular morning, my heart leapt in my chest; I was finally trout fishing. Many questions raced through my head, were the flies I had tied going to fool a fish as cunning as a trout, were my casting techniques well enough to place the fly in just the right place to entice a bite? As I slowly walked along, casting toward the riverbank, I noticed the fishermen around me were successfully landing trout of keeper size and quickly filling their creel limit. I had not even had a bite or seen a trout that seemed remotely interested in the fly I was presenting, I was becoming discouraged. Did I tie an unconvincing fly pattern, is my presentation wrong? Why are those around me successful while I continue to fail? How can I return home empty-handed after leaving my family behind for a day by myself? I must land one of these elusive creatures or completely rethink the time and expenses I have invested in this hobby.
Then it happens. I had just changed flies and tactics from a top-water fluttering action to a “let it sink and drift a while” strategy when “BANG”, a fish strike. My heart was pounding now as I let the fish take out some line. My concern was to not lose this trophy, how much is too much drag on the four pound test line I was using, how do I keep from losing this fish? The trout and I fought for what seemed like ten minutes or more, but, was actually only about two. When I was finally able to get the trout in close enough to scoop it up with my net, I was relieved. I had done it; I finally could be included in the group of people who can say they had caught a trout, one of the smartest fish on the planet and I had successfully tied and presented a fly that could fool the best. As I held the fish at the waters surface and removed the fly from its mouth, I reveled in my accomplishment and stood with wonder at this beautiful animal. The sparkling smoothness of its body and the vivid colors of its markings; characteristics of a trout that you can not pick up from books and magazines, only from viewing one up close. As I stood there mesmerized by this thing of beauty, I gently slipped the trout back down into the water and watched as it slowly swam away.
Since this moment, I have experienced catching other trout, but, none as memorable as the first. Sure, I returned home from that trip without any fish, but later realized that with many things in life, sometimes “The fishing is far more important than the fish”.