Fly Fishing Adventure #1

We hit the water probably a little after 7:30am on Saturday, the sun slowly rising over the bank of the canal. Just my dad and me in his boat. Just the wind and the water around us.

I hadn't been out fishing with my dad since I was a kid. As he cranked up the boat motor and we took off, those forgotten moments of youth came rushing back, and I caught myself thinking - why did I ever stop doing this?

The answer, of course, I already know: my teenage years were filled with me-centered activity, with friends more than family. I missed a lot of things I now regret. But that's another post altogether.

We found a good spot, boat parallel to shore, and got set up to fish, him from the front and me from the back of the boat. My dad has been doing this for years. He's a master. I like watching him end a cast, seeing his line roll out across the surface of the water and land next to the shore, within easy reach of the fish lurking below the surface.

My casts are beginner casts. About one in ten land near where I meant them to go, and more often than not, I end up with a long zig-zag of line on top of the water. The fish were pretty forgiving, though. Twelve took the bait and survived my disorganized efforts to bring them in to the boat and unhook them. I was pretty excited.

There's something peaceful about being on the water like that. For five hours, I had nothing in my head but my line and the fish I hoped to tempt into biting it. I watched my dad bring in catch after catch of his own, too, and I couldn't help beaming. I've seen him catch hundreds of fish over the years. This time was somehow different. Maybe because it looks an awful lot like fly fishing has hooked me.

I know that I desperately needed something I found out there on the water. I'd been looking forward to the weekend, hoping to find it, but not having any idea where it would come from. Peace. Solitude. A mental rest and reset.

But that was really only part of it. I started learning to fly fish because I was curious about it, wanted to write about it, and because I knew learning was something I could do and share with my dad. Going out yesterday was the next step, sort of the culmination of those efforts, and I wasn't entirely sure how I'd feel about it all. I would not have regretted the day, even if it turned out fly fishing wasn't my thing. I wanted the time with my dad. That would have been enough.

Instead, I honestly adored it from the first minute to the last. And I already can't wait to get back out there again. The picture below is me with my first fish (please pardon the medusa hair.)