Book Review - The Fly Fisherman's Guide to the Meaning of Life

I received The Fly Fisherman's Guide to the Meaning of Life as a late Christmas present this year.  It’s a short collection of fishing “lessons” from Peter Kaminsky.  Mixed in among his fishing stories are sections of "Insights" to the various aspects of fly fishing.  I thoroughly enjoyed this book.  Once I got started reading the stories it was difficult to put the book down.  Kaminsky has been fishing long enough to have some good stories and he tells them well.  And while I truly enjoyed the stories, I feel like I will go back to the Insight sections of the book repeatedly throughout my fishing career.  Here are some excerpts from the Insight sections…

WORDS TO LIVE AND FISH BY

"Rivers and the inhabitants of the watery elements are made for wise men to contemplate and for fools to pass by without consideration.”

Izaak Walton – The Complete Angler

"There’s no taking trout with dry breeches.”

Miguel de Cervantes

"The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope.”

Sir John Buchan, Lord Tweedsmuir

THE ESSENTIAL TRAITS OF A FLY FISHER

A Belief In Possibility

I never go fishing without the belief that this could be the Big Day.  Of course, driving rain, cold wind, and fishless hours can temper that enthusiasm but I start every fishing session with the certainty that I am going to do well.

Loving The Cast

It is pretty evident from the first time you see a person fly fishing.  The thing that makes it distinctive is the cast.  It’s like watching one of those multiple exposures of a golf swing or a tennis stroke; only with a fly rod you don’t need multiple exposures: The line itself is the visible and physical expression of an energy wave.  When you execute it properly it is as if your arm and fingers reach out a hundred feet with the grace of a ballerina gesturing with her arms.  Casting is easy to learn, hard to master, and there are always ways to get better.  Beauty, energy, and the constant challenge are a power full attraction.

    One quick comment.  Casting is what drew me to fly fishing.  Watching the graceful casting of my fishing comrades was enthralling.  And after one attempt at casting with my own rod and reel there was no turning back.

Concentration

Fish do not want to be caught.  They will do anything they can to avoid it.  The fly fisher must be alert, hypertuned at all times if there is to be any chance of success.  Turn your head for a moment and a fish can be on and off your fly.  When you are in that zone of concentration, every part of your being is a nerve ending.  Concentration on one thing is some strange way can, if it is total enough, bring oneness with everything.  Sounds mystical, but I know it’s true.

THE SOUND OF FLY FISHING

Running Water

Burbling brook, running stream, crashing surf, rushing tide – there is music in water.  Each one an overture, a promise (or at least the possibility) of fish on the rise, on the feed, ready to take.  The primal moment for me is walking through the woods and first hearing the low susurrus, the faint whisper of running water in the distance, still so far off that it could be a stream or it could be the wind.  Then – yes! – there is no mistaking the gentle babbling of water flowing over stones, soft as a lullaby, exciting as fireworks.

"Daddy, What Do I Do Now?”

A child not catching fish is a bored child, not one very likely to share Daddy’s passion.  Ah, but then a fish hits.  You hear a squeak and a laugh, followed by the realization that “Ohmygod, this thing is for real and it wants to fight me!”  At that point your child is hooked on fishing and the plea for help and advice confirms this and swells a father’s heart.  I would be lying if I said I enjoyed it more than catching a fish myself, but almost.

Silence

Yes, there is a sound to silence.  If you don’t believe me, listen to the stillness before dawn on a Montana creek, the quiet when the wind dies on Florida Bay as the sun sinks.  There is the total absence of sound on the lakes of central Finland in the middle of the short arctic night, the quiet when a wind-driven squall has rushed across a stream followed by the steamy stillness of the return of humid summer heat.  The world is full of sound over sound.  To experience silence is to appreciate both sound and its absence.  You feel part of the world – like the whole world or perhaps the only person in it.