Where do you start?
I have circled around this topic several times now and still struggle with how to express the exact "why?" but I'll give it a shot.
I don't have stories of childhood fishing with a parent or grandparent. I didn't start until I was 54 years old - this past May. But from the first time I went out solo, I was absolutely hooked for reasons hard to express.
I love the mountains.
I love the solitude on the river and the company of a kindred spirit.
I love the perfect cast and drift (however seldom).
I love the adrenaline rush of a fish exploding on top of the water at a dry.
I love fishing the same stretch of river over and over and discovering something new each time.
All these things but not exactly. Aside from all this (and at the risk of sounding cheesey) still there is something magical about fly fishing. It's like a switch turned on inside the first time out or a little voice said, "This is it!" Despite the tangled lines, the hungry rhodedendrons, the klutzy slips and casts, that voice resonates every time I'm out. It's a constant challenge, it's an escape, it's a continuous learning experience, it's what I now enjoy above all pastimes.
I was told by many folks for many years that I needed to try fly fishing and I just didn't get it until I made that first cast and caught that first trout on my own. I think there's a mysterious trigger in some of our DNA that creates an instant, unavoidable and fantastic obsession.
I'm still struggling with exactly the right words to express it but this will have to do for now. Thanks, Byron and Hugh for the opportunity to at least make the attempt.
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.