eliot starts playing the drums

Watch "eliot starts his journey with the drums" on YouTube

all gifts received

..from river reflected sun and sky

..from fire flaming leaves at eve

..to lifting life in ground and grass

..then dusk til dark

                      ...all, gifts received

 

[poem written as a response to the specific photographs, shown above, taken during my time on the stream]

apoapsis

All the romance of trout fishing exists in the mind of the angler
and is in no way shared by the fish.
 ~Harold F. Blaisdell, The Philosophical Fisherman, 1969

in minnesota, we have four seasons.  spring, summer, autumn, and of course, winter (everyone's secret favorite, or they wouldn't live here, right?).  astronomical seasons are determined by the earth's position relative to the sun, while the "summer" of the northern-hemisphere is marked by the earth's intersection with the apoapsis, or the point at which our planet is furthest from the sun during our annual elliptical orbit.  Even though our eclipsing of this particular apsis means our planet is the furthest that it will be from the sun, the earth's topside tilt towards our solar system's gravitational center generates the conditions necessary for the warmest months in the midwest.

by all measurements we're having a very warm summer in Minnesota this year.  as our earth leans into the sun, and the atmospheric pressure systems ebb and flow, the heat waves blanket the midwest.  accompanying these days of increased heat inevitably comes the rising of temperatures of our lakes and streams.  for cold-blooded trout, this means they must seek cooler water, or minimally hide/rest during the hotter portions of the day so as to help regulate their own internal body temperatures from becoming too warm.

as joe, khang, and i headed to south-eastern minnesota for a couple days of trout fishing, we knew our work was cut out for us as the forecast was predicting slightly above average temperatures; which for this time of year translates into -- hot.

we planned on camping at whitewater state park, while spreading our time amongst three streams: the north and south branches of the whitewater river, and trout run which is about 20 minutes south of where we would otherwise be roaming.

our time was enjoyable as always, but certainly a mixed bag with regard to how well we did synchronizing with the trout.  we began our trip on trout run and had reasonable success before returning to camp for the night.  prior to climbing into our respective tents, we displayed some of our so-called "boy scout" skills and enjoyed an impromptu fire made from a fire starter that I had in my bag, and dead wood laying around our campsite.

we woke up to sunshine and the makings of another very warm day.  even at 9am in the morning, it was warm and we sought shade to compensate.  we began on the north branch of whitewater and had a modicum of success, but decided to pick up around lunch and hit the south branch to finish out our day.  the south branch trout proved our biggest challenge.  joe and khang caught a couple between them for the afternoon, and i managed to catch a little more than a handful, but this was clearly dumb luck for me i felt.

this trip was a reminder of the upcoming juncture with our planet's orbital apoapsis.  the mild, gentle, and comfortable weather of spring was giving way to meteorological summer.  our willingness to come out in the heat was a sign of our own unwillingness to let go of spring, and an anticipation for another day on the stream, but it was clear the trout did not share the same romance for the engagement as we did.

solitary refinement

a trip to the kinni that was supposed to involve both joe and khang ended up being a solo trek across the border today.  work pressures won out when it came down to brass tacks for both of these anglers this week.  their presence was missed as i left work early, and headed into the overcast horizon blanketing interstate 94.

i had worked an extra 8 hours over the weekend and was allowed to cash in some of the extra hours for an earlier exit than originally planned on monday.  this was nothing but good news for what seemed to be a perfect day to be on the stream.....  overcast, periodic rainfall, and temps in the mid-50s.

heaven.

i was able to arrive in river falls, gear up, and step into the water by 11:45am.  this meant i had about 8 hours of uninterrupted fishing to look forward to.  there was no one on the stream today (at least not within sight).  the dam itself was absent of pedestrians, shore fisher-persons, or other by-standers which was a sign that it was going to be thoroughly.....   quiet today.

but that's only partially true.  quiet in terms of people but it was certainly full of action in terms of trout.  the weather made for prime trout conditions.  hatches were occurring throughout the afternoon, and the trout responded in kind.  trout were rising from the time i stepped into the water, to the time i stepped out around 8:00pm.

joe had long instructed me to stay away from the dam, no matter how many fish i saw milling about there because the water is pretty calm, and the trout get hit there often.  i decided to try today anyway, as there was no one else around, and i felt like doing something unorthodox.  i spent 20 minutes there, and managed to pull out a nice 11 inch brown.  but i knew better fishing was down stream.

i found myself stopping at a hole that has long been one of the local favorites.  i ended up spending most of my afternoon there because the action on the surface was damn near a circus in the water.  trout were performing all sorts of aerial maneuvers, and aside from the fishing itself, was a marvel to witness.

i was amazed at how much i struggled to hook a trout given the activity i was seeing, but joe always told me that this can happen.  i just had a hard time believing it until i experienced it myself first hand.  the trout were feeding on something but that something wasn't at the end of my line apparently.  they flew out of the water for seemingly anything but what fly i had tied on.  i set aside my stubbornness and tried many different flies.

this did the trick.

i found that the insects they fed on changed throughout the day.  at some point they fed on elk hair caddis, and  at others they fed on BWO patterns.  it was so amazing to see this happen.  how these trout all happen to change together as to what they're focused on is just a small miracle to me.  i know there is a life aquatic explanation for this, but from up above, its just fascinating.

at other parts of the afternoon, i would catch nothing except for trout rising to snatch my flies as i was retrieving line to cast again.  after this happened twice, i learned a new technique that worked for awhile where i would literally try mimic the flying pattern of a caddis on the surface.  i would bob my caddis up and down just above the surface of the water, and i actually caught 4 fish this way when i was catching nothing else.

i must have been smiling ear to ear as i watched trout appear out of nowhere from the depths of the hole, and race to the surface to jump after my fly.  it was a fun change of pace to the other techniques i regularly employ.

toward the end of the day, tried my luck at "spot fishing."  this is a technique where you wait to spot the trout before casting.  this minimizes the chances of "spooking" the fish in conditions where that is more likely.  this location was one of those places.

the water was almost completely ripple free, with a slow but steady current as it moved downstream.  the trout were rising here, but a slap of your line on the surface resulting from a sloppy cast would undoubtedly send them to other, less annoying, places to eat.

i stood on some underwater branches to pull myself above the otherwise silty river bottom.  having casted all day in the wind, and given that the wind had died down by the early evening, i was finding my casting filled with ease of motion and solid form.....   all good news for this part of my day.

i saw a fish rise about 60 feet out.  i seemingly effortlessly casted out 65 feet of line, about 5 - 10 feet ahead of the rise.  two seconds later.....  SMASH!  and as i pulled back on my line, i had the excitement of a trout racing around in the calm water looking for a place to run to while being pulled back by my 3 weight sage flight rod.

that was one of 4 fish i ended up pulling from this area.  it was a very exciting hour i spent here.  much learned.

i fished one more hole on my way back, and all of a sudden, in the middle of my fishing this hole, the trout stopped rising almost as if some kind of internal alarm had gone off, and they all decided to sit still.  it was very bizarre after seeing them rise literally all day.  it took me about 5 minutes in the low light of late afternoon to realize that the stream was being muddied.  i wasn't sure from where but the water was opaque and cloudy.

as i walked back to the dam, ready to quit for the day, here is what the water looked like up ahead from where i first realized the water was now muddy.

beautiful in its own rite, but not so great for fly fishing!  it wasn't until i approached the dam, that i finally found the source of the conditions that ended my wonderful day on the stream.  it turned out that the rain taking place all day finally made its way to a recently created stream that was running down from the bluffs, and carrying all sorts of sediment with it.  see the picture below of this temporary stream.

normally, there is not water running down over those rocks, but there was today!  and carrying a lot of mud with it.  as it emptied into the water by the dam, it looked like the following.  you can easily see the two-tones in the water.

i ended my day catching one more trout by the dam, as there was a little water left untainted by the mud there.

i walked back to my van, processing all that i had learned today.  it was an afternoon filled with lessons that can hardly be taught.... at least not as effective as it is to be forced to work through it yourself when you encounter the conditions i did today.  words and ideas and lessons became action today.  joe had prepared me well to think through my choices in what the fish were throwing at me, and i had a very successful day as a result.

all it took was a little solitary refinement.

no rush on the rush proves a constant rush

from the minute i came into view of the rush river after descending the downstream side of the small bridge spanning this river valley, it hit me how thankful i was for this day.  it hit me how lucky i am to be here, doing something i love.  it hit me that at this point in my life, i could be too busy from doing such things, but having a wife that supports who i am and what makes me... me....  allows me to flourish and continue the exploration of the boundaries of my individuality.  .....a gift i do not take for granted, and one which i hope i'm always willing to return and value.

i decided today, that instead of rigging up at the van and being prepared to cast a line in at the first welcoming hole i encountered, i kept my tippet wrapped in hand and was going to breathe, walk slowly, listen, watch, and breathe.

i arrived two hours prior to the time that joe and khang would be showing up today, and so i had some time to myself to just be.  i decided i did not want to get in the habit of being too distracted by fishing, so much so that i began to overlook.  overlook all that surrounds me.  overlook what you cannot see when you're busy preparing and casting fly line.  overlook the sounds.   overlook the silence.  overlook the shadows cast by a morning's rising sun.

i took the video above to try and capture this process of slowing down.  this process of listening, and watching, and taking in the moment with deep, slow breaths.  of course no video can recreate such practice, and yet it can point in the direction i was attempting to guide myself this particular morning.  the trout were not going anywhere far, and there was plenty of time left in a day that was beginning around 10am and that i was going to be fishing until the sun decided it had had enough for the day.

i walked the river bed for some time, and eventually chose a spot where a couple of canadian geese were having their equivalent to a morning coffee with each other.  they were not happy about my presence, and made that known to me.  i smiled, and wished them a good morning, but this did not do anything to help.  the male flapped its wings violently and honked at me.  he decided it was not worth charging today, and i'm glad he did.  i just wasn't in the mood for a fight with a goose.

the couple made their way upstream and didn't bother to say good bye.  i sort of felt bad about intruding, but i figured they could fly, and i couldn't.  i'm not saying its bullet-proof logic, but they were not looking for trout and i was.   so.

i only had my line in for about 30 minutes by the time joe piped in over our two-way radios.  they had arrived 15 minutes shy of noon, and were ready to get moving.  i could definitely understand their excitement and anticipation.

joe asked if i had caught any fish, and when i replied no, he said, "well, i was going to say 'my work is done' if you had caught fish already.  you have to know how to fish these holes, they aren't as obvious as other places."  i just gave him a knod and smiled.  no matter what he believed, i certainly knew his work wasn't done!  i have much to learn.

we headed upstream (as opposed to the direction i had taken earlier), and joe put each of us in spots he knew were ripe for trout picking.  khang and joe both started off quickly with numerous trout in the net in the first hour, while i struggled to find what the trout were looking for.  khang's success was especially exciting since this was only his second time out with minimal equipment!  this man was born to fish.  having fished since he was a little boy, he has a powerfully acute intuition when it comes to dropping line in the water.  its fun to watch him pick things up so quickly, and just a bit humbling.

i had never caught a fish yet on my own flies.  so when my fortunes were not going well, i decided to take what i considered to be my most unique fly i've made yet, and throw it on the line.  i name all my flies, an act i still am not sure whether joe appreciates or is annoyed by, and this particular fly i dubbed "special ed."  there are a number of reasons for this, part of which has to do with an inside joke between joe and i, and part of it has to do with the fact that my wife has worked in special education for over 13 years.  anyway, i have always loved this fly, and told joe that even though it doesn't look like all the other traditional flies, it was a winner.

i tied on "special ed" and within 5 casts, my indicator dropped beneath the bubbling water.  when i lifted my 9 foot rod tip up in response, i felt a very substantial counter-response under the surface.

i had a nice sized trout hooked!

this trout ran and ran.  he swam upstream and downstream trying to figure his plan of escape.  i followed him gently and let him work out some of his initial adrenaline before guiding him to the opposite shore where i could stand in more shallow water to net him.  eventually i netted him, and found that i had caught a very nice sized 14.5 inch trout.

(you can see my "special ed" fly on his belly,
you may have to click picture to see it though)

this was the biggest trout i had caught to date!  it was also my first trout caught on the rush river.  and it was the first time i had caught a trout with my own fly.  three firsts in one netted trout.  amazingly, within 20 minutes i followed this up with a 14 inch trout, and a 12 inch trout.  three of the biggest i had ever caught, and all in the matter of a half hour, and all with "special ed"!!

i decided to move on after this, and unfortunately in the process tripped and fell for the first time into the river (at least the first time where i actually filled my waders).  it was relatively warm (high 50s) and so it didn't matter a great deal, and actually felt good to get drenched for a short time, but i still felt like all left feet because of it.

the day from here on was simply amazing.  and for all three of us.  khang and joe were into double digits for number of fish caught by 4pm or so, and i was at around 7 at the same time.  it was a just a fantastic day for catching trout.  all three of us had two way radios, and so we were able to check in with each other from time to time.  the radios really added a new dimension to fishing together that i appreciated.  instead of only being able to check-in once or twice a day, we were able to talk about what was going on throughout the day.  that just made it feel more communal, and allowed us to talk about what we were having success with in terms of technique and/or flies.

toward the evening, like around 6:30pm, i went on a tear with the fish i was catching.  after about an hour lull, i ended up catching 10 fish in the matter of two hours.  it ended up bringing my count to 18 for the day, shattering my previous record of 9 in an entire day.  in that span, i tried different casting techniques, and actually fished most the afternoon with a dual-rig setup.  this was another first for the day.  joe had talked about this for about 10 months now, but i had refrained from trying due to the fact that i was still trying to grow comfortable with my casting.  casting becomes even more important with a dual-rig setup, because with two flies whizzing through the air, its that much more to get tangled if you're not performing all aspects properly.

i fell in love with this technique though, as it allowed me to fish top water (dry flies) and sub-surface at the same time.  i ended up catching 12 of my 18 fish for the day on dry flies (specifically caddis, which are top water, or dry flies).  dry flies are exciting because it requires the trout to surface to take your fly.  when they surface, the water explodes and that visual stimulus gets your heart racing instantaneously.  its a very exciting thing to experience.  not unlike watching a bass take your spinner bait while whipping through the flats.

khang and joe both ended up catching a large number of trout for the day as well, with joe catching such a large amount that he lost count after 25.  :)

khang pulled in 16, and all the while it being only his second (yes, second) day out.  the man is a natural.  the real deal.  he'll play it off so humbly, but he's so fun to watch and listen to as he picks everything up so quickly.

on my end, beyond the trout netted, i saw a trout jump completely out of the water for the first time.  it looked like a dolphin performing at sea world as it leaped into the air, froze at its apex, and then nose dived into the flowing river again.  it was a beautiful brookie.  i never caught a brook all day, but its unmistakable red-orange bottom fins and darker back almost seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun.

another happening worth noting was the walk back as the day grew dim.  i could have sworn i heard something that sounded like a bobcat, or mountain lion.  and i found out that both of these were actually possibilities!  i still haven't looked up what either of these sound like, but at one point i heard something that sounded like a territorial hiss/growl/sneer reminiscent of a cat-like predator.  i never did see it, but it happened three times.  its a little unnerving to think what was not far away and feeling threatened.

we all fished until the sun dropped beneath the horizon, eeking out every last minute we could.  khang was the last to leave the river as he squeezed out the very last drop.  he actually manged to catch yet another fish as he did so.

and then the moon took over the evening sky.

when we got back to our vehicles, we began the process of taking off and loading our gear as we each told stories from our fantastic day.  everyone was heading home with smiles.  joe caught a number of large fish, one which fell short of rivaling the largest he's ever caught (~18 inches) at around 16 inches.  khang was simply enamored with his experiences, and never thought it could be quite this fun (as a life long "spin fisherman").  and i was soaking in the sheer number of "firsts" i had had today.

there are simply no words for the ways in which the time spent on the river rejuvenate, strengthen, and stretch my soul.  even as we closed our day, i ended it as i began......      so thankful.

i can only hope for many more such days and evenings.

...fly like an eagle...

...time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin.....

into the future...

Steve Miller Band

"yes, spin fisherman are welcomed," i heard myself saying as i typed these words to khang over instant messenging at work.

khang is a spin fisherman with whom i traveled to iowa last year for a weekend fishing trip.  we have not fished together since, and i think he was sort of beginning to believe that our trip was an anomaly and that he wouldn't ever be invited to join joe and i on any of our fly fishing outings.  this is absurd of course as neither joe nor i would not invite him as a result of his lower trout caste status: spin fisherman.

well....     maybe....   just depends.  :)

with this news and invitation though, khang made plans to join the two of us for the first time this coming weekend.  i was glad to hear as much, and joe was too even if a bit skeptical i suppose.  (joe brought an extra fly fishing rod just in case the opportunity presented itself to proselytize a bit.)

joe wasn't going to make it to the river as early as i wanted to, so khang and i left ahead of him to begin our day early.  i had to leave before sun down so i didn't want to miss more than i had to on the front end.  after scooping the kiddos into the car, and covering the western suburbs (north to south) for drop-offs, we were heading east bound towards the kinni about 90 minutes after having left my house.

we arrived about an hour later, and quickly suited up and headed down the hill next to the parking lot that we go to when fishing the lower kinni.  without my mentor (joe), i stepped into the river and was excited to be there ahead of him today.  khang entered calmer water upstream from my position.  the sun was shining warmly, and the wind was negligible.  it felt great to be cooled down by the water rushing around my legs.

my day got off to a quick start, and within an hour or a little more, i had already caught 5 trout!  to put that into perspective, my previous record was 6 total for an entire day.  so i was ecstatic to say the least.  even the kayakers whizzing by here and there didn't disrupt my success.  my midges were doing the trick at a spot that joe and i had fished last time we were here.  today was different however as the fish were not dimpling as they were weeks ago at this very same spot.  but an occassional rise let me know they were there.

joe arrived about 2 hours after we set foot in the stream as i heard him call over my radio with much static interfering with his words.  we were thinking of trying our luck at the upper kinni, but as a result of not being able to find khang, who had moved further downstream at this point, we decided to stay and fish for awhile to see if we were going to be lucky enough to avoid the crowds that would not be strange for a beautiful day like today.

that didn't last long as the kayakers began to intrude a little more than joe was ready to swallow in terms of patience.  so we finally found khang and all gathered our gear up to fish the upper.

soon we were back in the water, and i was now at a count of 6 for the day which meant i only needed one more trout to break my previous one day record.  twenty minutes later, i was at 8!  it happened so fast, it was almost like "what?"....   "i guess i broke my record...."  never had fish come to me so "easily" as they had today.  it was a very different experience than most of my other outings where i'm hoping to catch just one or two so that i don't have to go home with my tail between the legs.

the rest of the afternoon, i caught nothing.  i tried to fish my "blue steele" fly for awhile to no avail, though deciding to keep "special ed" in the box this week.  i found out that joe was not having any luck either.  khang was too far up stream to know for sure.

five thirty came so quickly.  as i said good bye to joe, and walked back to my van, i found myself thinking a lot about how time just seems to keep moving faster and faster with each year.  you can't do anything to stop it.  but when you're intentional about embracing it, you can, it seems, squeeze out of it fantastic riches and beauty.  this day flew like an eagle, and yet by reflecting on it as i walked in the lower afternoon sun, it seems you can slow it if only for a moment as you live and re-live a day.

i thought about how my record was broken today, almost without me realizing it though.  these things come with anticipation, but they go so quickly....  the same is true of my daughter, and two boys.  before i could really embrace their budding youth as infants and toddlers, the boys are now kindergarten age.  and before i could wrap my head around having a new infant in the home, she's now zipping around the living room on all fours...

if you fall asleep for a short time, you miss so much.....    and complaining or fearing the reality of time slipping through our fingers can so easily lead to missing what we have now.

reflect on the past, yes.  plan for the future, yes.  but neglect the present as little as possible.....   because both the past and the future are abstractions to a degree....  abstractions whose concrete reality actualize in the seemingly infinite chain of "nows" that make up our life........  it is not primarily a thought about the past that will be significant for us, nor a thought about what our future may be, but rather it is the chain of present "moments" that make up what we carry around with us as "memory" once lived, and it is these present moments that then shape our "anticipation" of what future lies ahead.

like photography, fly fishing is a way for me to slow down and embrace the present.  it is a time for me to escape time, and it is also a chance for me to process time....   past, present, and future.

time will keep slippin, slippin, slippin, into the future; inevitably.  but i have the choice to let it do so while i am aware and deeply intentional about engaging what time i have, or i can let it carelessly slip away each moment while not being honest with myself about the finite number of "nows" i have left to cherish......

before turning east away from the river, i decided to drop my line in a few more times.  i actually hooked 3 in a span of 20 minutes, but netted zero of those!  i made one last adjustment and cast into the same spot that i ended my day a month or so ago when i was here.  at that time, i landed a nice size trout that got away.  after missing 3 in a row just now, i wasn't going to let that happen again.

sure enough, my midge found its way to a hungry trout and my indicator followed suit, dropping beneath the surface as the brookie swallowed the fly.

this time, instead of holding my tip up as the trout surfaced, i held the tip low, just above the surface of the water and pulled to the side.  whether this was "helpful" or not, the fact remains that i kept the trout on the line this time, and was able to pull him in for my last trout of the day.....    number nine.

what a fun way to end the day.  i walked back to the van all smiles.

only later, after joe and khang left the river just past sunset, did i find out that i had broken another record for me......    and that was that for the first time, i caught more fish than joe did for the day.  :)

i won't gloat....   i know this won't last long.  but for now, yours truly holds the "Most Trout Caught" trophy (which is for FLY fisherman only khang......    who caught 17 that day!!!    :)

....thanks for the grace on the stream this time joe   ;)

the 5 p's

proper planning prevents poor presentation

have you ever heard that before?  i'm not sure how widespread the use of the so-called "5 p's" is, but i remember hearing it here and there growing up.  it was of course relative to giving a presentation to an audience, but in fly fishing there is a concept referred to as "presentation" as well.  this refers to how well you "present" to a different sort of audience....  that being the trout.  the subject of your presentation:  your fly.


the idea of "planning" was something on my mind as i headed to the kinnickinnic this week.  i had to plan weeks in advance to schedule getting off of work early. i had to plan the time off with kellie to make sure we had our children covered in my absence.  i had to plan for the outing itself, for which the first time i used a "checklist", an idea suggested by joe.  and if we consider practice a part of planning, i had been outside a few days in the past weeks practicing my casting skills in the front yard.


on top of all of this, i had invited my good friend bill to come along for the trip since he was on spring break (he is a math teacher).  however, in the end, it was decided that we had not adequately planned for him to join for the first time, and would likely result in a less than favorable experience with the logistics involved in heading out to the stream....   especially for the first time.


so there were many seemingly unrelated themes tying back to the importance of planning.  i didn't intentionally plan on writing about my two parents in my first two posts on this blog, but its interesting to me that the themes that have come to mind for the first two have connected rather clearly in my mind to childhood experiences of my parents.  my last blog had to do with "doing a job well."  this blog is focusing on the importance of planning.


my mother was amazing at this, and probably single handedly made at least a handful or two of our vacations twice as enjoyable as they would have been otherwise because of her attention to detail, and her gift (or pure choice perhaps??) of being able to plan well.  that has rubbed off on me in many ways.  i love to be spontaneous, and probably more than an average person....  but i've found that even in spontaneity, a modicum of strategic planning can make your spontaneous moments much more successful, memorable, and rewarding.


fishing yesterday illustrated this point numerous times, but none more clearly than as the setting sun approached the horizon just prior to nightfall.  as the day was coming to a close, i was fishing up stream from joe.  we had both sort of silently (maybe just subconsciously) decided to fish further apart than we otherwise had for most of the day, to wrap up what had become a near perfect day of fishing.

i am just learning what it means to be a fly fisherman, and in my infancy, i have not spent much time focusing on interpreting my environment (a very important skill for a fly fisherman).  but this evening i noticed a hatch had taken place, and there were ubiquitous bugs flying around me just above the surface of the water.  all day i had been fishing successfully with nymphs (which are a sub-surface pattern).  but along with the apparent hatch taking place, i was seeing the trout hit the surface.


apparently they were hungry and finding interest in what was above the surface of the water as they would poke their heads out, some more than others, to swallow whatever their eyes were targeting.


really for the first time since i began fishing last summer, i made the call to switch flies (without joe's advice :), and go with an elk hair caddis which is a dry fly that floats on the surface of the water if cast well.  i was relatively pleased with my casting (joe had been working with me all day mind you), and my presentation was solid.  presentation with a dry fly is especially important as you want to minimize "slapping" of the water with your line or with the fly itself.  the point is to have your fly come to the surface rather gingerly, mimicking the gentle motion of a real fly.


i casted probably 10 times and was not having any luck, and was starting to doubt my wisdom, when all of a sudden, SPLOOSH!  a respectably sized trout decided he liked what i had offered and took the fly into his mouth.  instinctively i followed suit with a lifting of my rod tip and a tightening of the fly line as i set the hook.  lucky for me, i had played it well, and the trout remained on the end of my line.


i netted the trout, and beamed inside as i had my first success after environment interpretation.  it was an extremely rewarding experience.  and it was at the helm of a spontaneous decision, but one based upon prior practice, preaching (a nice "p" word for "instruction", and more accurate to how joe has learned to speak to me :), and planning.  it was a fish caught that not just anyone would have netted.  that fish was the result of having been a diligent student, and it felt real good.


it was the last catch of the day for me, and it capped off what was a simply glorious afternoon.  one which offered to us mid-50s for temps, sunshine, and a near record trout count for me (6 or 7...   lost count...  7 would break my record), and a near trophy fish for joe ;)  (poor joe....    we both saw it on the end of his line....  i was there....   but we'll never know exactly how big that guy was.......  poor joe  :)


my spirit itches for summer as we've gotten a foretaste of glory divine, but with days like this....   i won't have trouble being too impatient....

kinnickinnic

Free from desire, you realize the mystery.

Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.

-- Lao Tzu

it was from my father as a young boy that i learned the value of patience, and the satisfaction that comes from hard work.  he always said, "a job worth doing is a job worth doing well."  at such moments, i was usually then on my way back to the garage to finish turning my "ok" attempt at cleaning it into "a job done well."

such simple words really.  and yet its amazing to me how often we settle for something less than a "job done well" when its within our capacity to do so.

when i sat down to write tonight, it was this particular legacy of my dad's that came to mind as i stared at the photo above, and reminisced about my first trip to wisconsin as an aspiring fly fisherman.

in an internal sense, i am "coming into my own" as i approach my mid-thirties.  and i certainly do not mean to imply that i have answered all my questions, or have reached a point of perpetual equilibrium.  i am simply expressing the reality inside me that i would call "Peace."

for me, this is a relative term.  it is a peace that is comparative to all that has preceded me in my journey....  specifically in mind here, would be my inner journey.

there are perhaps many factors that have played into this experience of self-actualization, some big some small.  but as this has taken place, i find myself placing in front of me all that has become uniquely "me" as an object of reflection itself, and then locating it within the wider story of my life.  in some respects it is hard to believe that the memories i have of "my self" are memories of a single individual.  and on the other hand, its like nothing has changed.

fly fishing to me is a sign of my person "coming home."  it is a sign of belonging to myself.  it is at once both a sign of my having fully embraced "adulthood" and at the same time a connection to all that is "youth" within me.  when i step into the river, it "just is" true that there are few other moments in life that i am more "shane" than when my feet submerge.

in this sense, fly fishing could not possibly be less about fly fishing than it is, but it is precisely for this reason that it is "freed" to be one of the most enjoyable things i have ever taken part in.

paradox.

"free from desire you realize the mystery."  life is filled with such paradoxes.  i expect nothing from the river, from the trout living beneath the surface, from the sky above me, from the air i breathe....  and thus i am free to receive it all.

as gift.

looking back...  i'm not sure what any of this has to do with my dad's having taught me to take time to do something well.  but as i ritually take place in deep introspection, i see the blossoming of something in that memory that has become less about something i "do" and more about something i "am."

fly fishing has been a beautiful lens through which to understand myself and everything i have become...  both good and not-so-good.....

when i reflected back upon my first trip to the kinnickinnic, my first wisconsin trout caught at the helm of my good friend joe's firm but paced instruction, the setting sun on a seasonably warm march evening, and one last rise that i hope will always quicken my heart....  it was my dad's example that came to mind, and the seemingly countless examples which experience has presented to help internalize this priceless bit of wisdom....

...that a job done well....   really is "worth" it......

introduction

vasudeva the ferryman (from herman hesse's "siddharta") spent his days helping people cross a river which to most, was simply an obstacle in their otherwise busy schedules.  he comments that it is extremely rare, but every once in a great while, one of these people will stop to enjoy the river's ever flowing presence.  a smaller number yet.... actually listen.

i didn't need to start another blog, but i found myself wanting to as i spend a good amount of time reflecting on my own moments in life when i stop to listen.  these moments when the world fades around me as i dissipate into the "now" of what is around me are some of the most precious i have experienced.

having a dedicated place to unpack some of the thoughts, sights, sounds, and experiences i have when i head outdoors seemed like a meaningful endeavor.  so to this end, i have begun my third blog.

...life is short.  may time be treasured....

an omen

reposted from my "present tense" blog

this last summer i began taking my first practical steps towards realizing a personal dream i've had for just over a decade: to become a fly fisherman. this goal, this admittedly ambiguous horizon, is at least in part a philosophical one (as i imagine it to be for anyone in similar waders). what does it mean to "become a fly fisherman"? at what point does one "become" a fly fisherman?

is it when the rod is purchased? or perhaps when your wading boots are tightened? is it the first time you enter the stream with trout on your mind?

the questions could go on forever. and if i know anything about myself.... they will. and if i know anything else about myself, its that in the process of asking myself the myriad of questions that i undoubtedly will, i'll likely frustrate any number who are unfortunate enough to be in the wake of my questions as they're asked, and who see the "common sense" answer to a rather "common sense" question.

sigh.

and so the circle of life continues.

but i don't want to get distracted. this particular reflection happens to be about another aspect to the goal of "becoming a fly fisherman." and that's the practical side to this goal. now, i can (and will) certainly make this element to the goal as complicated as it shouldn't be. but once again, i'll save those particular intricacies for some distant late night insomnia coupled with a plate of brownies and vanilla bean ice cream, or perhaps for one of those illuminative moments that can occur while sitting on the throne. (which reminds me, excuse me for one minute...)

here's some good advice, and you can take this to the bank: never talk with your mouth full, never eat with your stomach full, and never write with your bladder full. these are just simple truths that will help you in general. (but rarely in particular)

where was i?

oh yeah, "becoming a fly fisherman."

anyway, this winter i have been graced with my first fly fishing experience in freezing temperatures. now if i'm honest, no, it was not freezing. not technically. everyone knows that freezing occurs at 32 degrees (water that is) (at sea level anyway) (and depending on degree of salinity) (and i don't know what i'm talking about)

it was actually 34 degrees last saturday (the day i went winter fly fishing). but it rained three-quarters of the day, and was slightly windy, so it felt like it was freezing. i love minnesota. the change of seasons. the water all around us. the very green forests. the diversity of our metropolitan cities. the vikin... errr..... the competitive spirit embedded in the souls of its people. (i made that last one up, it sounded documentary-ish) (but this is not a documentary, so what did i care?) (i have no idea) (in case that wasn't implied)

but yes... its' rivers. we're surrounded. its a blessing. i've traveled to many foreign countries in the world, and one thing that almost always strikes me about the things we so easily take for granted here, is how we fail to grasp how precious our clean water is. so many people in the world would literally (and DO literally) give their life for something as simple as water.

in minnesota, its abundant. i am grateful for its existence. and i'd like to think i am conscientious about it. when i step into a fresh water stream, i think about it almost every time. it humbles me.

even in 34 degree air temperatures, 26 degree wind chill, and a light to moderate rain i can be thankful for the stream i am stepping into. thankful for the life it sustains and thankful that i can share in that life.

making my way down to hay creek, just outside red wing, was a drive filled with anticipation and a child-like excitement. i could not wait to walk a river in the dead of winter for the first time in my life. and when i arrived and stepped out into the chilled but humid winter air, i'll never forget the encompassing quiet interrupted only by the sounds of birds who apparently share my love for the winter outdoors as well.

and soon.... the sound of the water. it could have been deafening for all i know, because as i post-holed my way to the modest banks of hay creek, my audible world was focused solely on the lovely sound of fresh winter-chilled water which was patiently spilling its way to the great mississippi.

it didn't take me long to find an inviting hole, just a couple dozen yards from the very bridge i had previously crossed not 20 minutes ago. and as much as i'd like to create some literative drama reminiscent of the better fly fishing blogs out there when it comes to explaining how i happened upon my first trout of the year, the truth is that on my second cast of the year (using my gorgeous new sage flight three weight rod) i felt a resistance on the end of my rod that only a fly fisherman can appreciate to its fullest. the lively, sporadic bounce in my tip told me i wasn't dealing with a snag (which is what i was expecting). suddenly, and once again, i was back to experiencing the freezing of time which has accompanied many of the trout i have pulled in to date.

all fades.... and its just you and the fish. the whole thing lasted perhaps 30 seconds today, but time means little in this moment. your first signs are touch, soon sight follows as the trout's colorful skin reflects sunlight through the water as its flight path ebbs and flows, followed by an explosion at the surface as he tries one of his numerous instinctual strategies to break free from the invisible hand guiding him to shore.

i wasn't sure if i'd catch anything my first time out winter fly fishing. my mentor had gone out two weeks prior and caught only two fish on the same stretch of water. admittedly, every day is its own, and the river is never the same twice, but i have yet to come close to catching as many fish as he when we go out together, so i thought my chances were perhaps small, especially without his help that day. so to catch a beautiful "brookie" (image below) within 10 minutes of entering the stream was a gift (in my mind). perhaps (i hope) an omen for the rest of the year.

i ended up not catching another that afternoon. this was alright with me. i thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon in the winter rain. i had a couple more chances, but i think its safe to say my inexperience blew those opportunities. this just means i need many more winter trips to come....

i have little idea where i was going with all of this. i know i started out entertaining the thought, what does it mean to "become a fly fisherman"? at this point, i honestly don't have anything real illuminative, nor intelligent with which to flavor this inquiry. but i do think its fair to say that however in the end its answered by the fly fishing gods and greats, it must at least involve fly fishing.

and i couldn't have been more thrilled to do just that on hay creek last saturday.

may another day on the stream come soon.....

From First Winter Fly Fishing

you are going to die

"For the garden is the only place there is, but you will not find it
Until you have looked for it everywhere and found nowhere
that is not a desert."

--- W.H. Auden, For The Time Being

when i was young, probably around 5 or 6 years old, i remember my dad taking me outside to show me how to fly the new kite he had just purchased.  i can't remember if it was my first, but i remember it being a novelty nonetheless.  its too long ago to remember all the details, but what i do remember is this:  at one point, once he had the kite flying, he opened the driver's side door to our purple waldoch conversion van and wedged the roll of string connected to the kite in between the door frame and the van itself.  allegedly, the idea was that it was a place for the string to be "held" while he did something else momentarily.  well, placing the roll there did in fact hold the roll in place fine, however the string itself kept unraveling as the kite flew higher and higher into the sky.  just as he realized what was happening, he reached for the roll of string only to find an empty cardboard cylinder in his hands as the kite string had quickly unraveled and escaped our reach into the wind swept atmosphere.

this story came to mind when thinking about the year 2006.   my life literally felt like that kite string that year.  it was unraveling right in front of me, and when i finally tried to reach out and stop the unraveling, i found my hands with basically an empty roll of toilet paper.  and all one could do for a time, was watch it disappear into the horizon.

it was in the midst of watching this metaphorical kite fly away, many times feeling powerless to do anything but watch, that i decided to take a trip out west.  i needed to get away.  i needed solitude.  i needed to figure out what it meant for me to regain control of myself...  of my life....  even to find myself.

To learn to love
it to be stripped of all love
until you are wholly without love
because
until you have gone
naked and afraid
into this cold dark place
where all love is taken from you
you will not know
that you are wholly within love.

--- Madeleine L'Engle

in my planning, i happened upon articles speaking of colorado's majestic "14ers".  a 14er is a mountain that rises more than 14,000 feet above sea level.  i had been to colorado countless times, but to date, had never specifically aimed to hike to a mountain top.  i had always looked for notable hikes to waterfalls, rivers, lakes, and any other destination that had some form of water.

there was something in my soul that was awakened as i read stories about others making such hikes.  there was something about the effort and experience that seemed to speak to my present state of affairs.  so without understanding a great deal about what i was getting into, i picked out the tallest mountain in colorado, that being mt. elbert, and decided i was going to hike to the top.

i was so raptured by this upcoming trip.  the more i thought about "conquering" something (which is how i looked at it at the time, but have since chosen much more meaningful ways of describing what reaching a summit is like to me), the more alive i felt.  having and feeling a sense of empowerment was quite antithetical to what my life had been over the previous 6 months or so.  however, the more i read about what i was attempting to accomplish, the more i found out that i was not going at the best time of year, and in fact, the worst time of year. the dates i had set were in mid-april.  in the mountains of colorado, spring time is a transitional period between the hardened, wind swept slopes of winter and the snow-free ascents of summer.

spring time temperatures meant one was to expect post holing.... a reality meaning that whether in boot or snowshoe, you end up sinking into the snow with every step because the snow is in a state of melting and thus softened.  i was not going to let information like this deter me however.  i queried a good friend's father to see if i could borrow his snowshoes, and managed to gather a list of other necessities as i read about the survivalist's "10 essentials" for the first time with increased interest.

eventually, the day came and i made my way to colorado.....   alone.  i borrowed my father's SUV, packed it with my gear, and headed west with an anticipation that i'd like to believe rivaled any adventurers setting sail for new land.

i arrived in the small town (population 36) of twin lakes to find my "hotel," an ex-brothel, all but deserted. this was actually just fine by me who was traveling for solitude anyway.  the owner, charlie, was the only one around and he was only a day away from leaving for a business trip to chicago.  when he finally left, he literally ended up handing me the keys for the hotel and told me to remember to lock it up each day when i left.  that doesn't happen everyday.

i knew i needed a couple days to acclimate before attempting to summit elbert.  acclimatization is an important biological process that takes place where your body adjusts to the decreased amount of oxygen in the air as a result of the altitude.  if one tries to do too much activity too soon, you can experience intense headaches, dehydration, and dizziness.  and if this occurs at high enough altitude, one can actually get "altitude sickness" which has the capacity to lead to death.

i spent a couple days hiking the rivers in the area, and just getting my body prepared for what lie ahead.  i brought along the book, "soul making" (by alan jones) and picked it up here and there while on the trip.  i was quickly getting interested in the book as it seemed a perfect match for where i was at in life.  the book focuses on the value of solitude, awareness of one's finitude, and a spirituality marked by embrace of suffering and an intentional awareness of one's inevitable death kept at the forefront of the mind.

it was this last idea that really gripped me.  so much of life is spent pretending we are not what we are....  namely mortal.  so much of life is spent attempting to sugar coat that which could not be more natural.  so much of life is spent thinking about the "present" apart from its ultimate context.....   carpe diem without consequence.

"To live our life from the point of view of our death is not necessarily a capitulation to despair, to withdrawal, to passivity.  Rather, it can become the basis for our being and doing in the world.  The more we refuse to look at our own death, the more we repress and deny new possibilities for living.  We are all going to die, and our life is a movement to that sure end.  [Some] find that meditation on this simple fact has a wonderful way of clearing the mind!  It enables them to live every single moment with new appreciation and delight.  When I say to myself, "this moment may be my last," I am able to see the world with new eyes."
                                               ---- Alan Jones, in "Soul Making" (p. 67)


the night before my summit attempt, i was invited to a "town" dinner which consisted of about 16 people coming together for a pasta dinner at the hotel where i was staying.  charlie was known to host such meals for the people living in twin lakes.  the night was fantastic as i got to sit amongst long time friends and family laugh and tell stories.  i've never had another experience like it.

i was lucky enough to sit next to one of the town's eccentrics named tom.  tom had apparently been around longer than the moon.  he clearly suffered mental illness to a degree, but in a way that made him all the more fun to listen to and engage in conversation.  he spoke very slowly, but intently.  his stories were rich with hyperbole and color commentating.  he told whimsical stories of climbing elbert with water melons to eat at the top, and inspiring stories of camping at the top to catch the sunrise in the morning from the highest point in all of colorado.  he told stories of literally sliding down the mountain (called "glissading") in winter on his butt in less than an hour or so if i remember the story correctly.

when the townspeople found out that i was planning on hiking elbert the next day in snowshoes, they all had advice, as well as caution (and that with a slight smirk here or there, as most knew how crazy it was that i was attempting such non-sense at this time of year.... but keep in mind that this town is a common stopping place for folks who run the leadville 100, which is a 100 mile race by foot through the mountainous terrain of the sawatch....    and this 100 miles is covered in less than 19 hours by the best!!)  i could not believe how caring they were.  i had this very odd feeling of being surrounded by family.  a feeling that is certainly more easily spread when eating with an entire town that literally survives.... together.

i went to bed a little bit more warm because of that evening's dinner.

the next day, i woke up early around 4:30am to prepare for hiking up elbert.  i had prepared all my gear the night before, and was ready to go without much effort.  the sun was not going to rise above the horizon for another 120 minutes (or something in that ballpark).  i hit the trail around 5:30am and turned on my headlamp so that i could see my way along the trail that guided me for the first mile or so of my hike.  it was so quiet i remember.  it was also dark.  its amazing the primal instincts you tap into when walking an alpine trail in the dark with nothing but a narrow shaft of light to guide you through terrain upon which bears live.  needless to say, i was not disappointed when the sun began to light my surroundings, and i could shut my headlamp off.

the sawatch range is well known for its long approaches when attempting to hike its 14ers.  it is a range that i have fell in love with as its extended base approaches are marked by thick mountain pine forests surrounding your field of view as you hike to the base of the mountain.

once you begin to ascend, the alpine forest remains a close friend of yours until you are in the 12K+ range (in terms of altitude).   at this point, you reach what is referred to as "tree line" which means that you have ascended to an altitude so high that the trees no longer have the oxygen they need to survive, and thus no longer are there trees surrounding you.  at this benchmark, you are now allowed to see for the first time the world beneath you.  there are few experiences like it.  when you've been covered underneath the branches of majestic pine trees all morning, its an unforgettable experience to come out of those trees into a field of view that spans for dozens and dozens and dozens of miles into the valley below.

this particular trip was filled with struggle however as i was post holing with each step up the slope of the mountain.  even with snowshoes i was sinking into the snow up to my knees (or further in some cases).  there was so much emotion going into this climb, and i remember cursing at the top of my lungs as i slowly made my way up the side of the mountain.  it was one of my most visceral experiences of cleansing the demons in my soul as i faced myself in utter solitude.  no one could hear my screams, the universe was silent, and it all directed my complex emotion....   inward.....

there have not been many experiences in my life where i made the decision to "fall short."  and i don't say that arrogantly, but the decision i made that day is meaningful because i had to face this question as i was 3/4 up the great mount elbert.  i was beginning to experience headaches, and i was running low on water, and there was absolutely no one on the mountain.  i was literally miles from any help if i needed it, and 3000 feet above them.  this is partially why everyone in town thought i was crazy because if i so much as sprung an ankle while halfway up the mountain, i could be in big trouble if i couldn't get back down before nightfall.  i sort of understood that when i was eating with them, but was hit with its reality in a whole new way as i sat on a rock three thousand feet up the mountainside.

i had never climbed a mountain before, and so i chose to play it safe, as hard as that was.   what seemed like throwing away my training, and five hours of grueling snowshoeing up a mountain side is hard to do for someone with pride.  but i'm not an idiot, and i remembered the phrase etched in my brain from a book i read before making the trip out here:  "it is better to live to climb another mountain than to make a bad decision and never climb again."

so i stared up the mountain for a short time, cried tears coming from all sorts of places within me, and attained the peace i needed about my decision before heading back down.

turning back early that day has done more for me and my respect for the mountain than any sentence read could ever do.  and as i hinted above, i change my perspective forever that a mountain was to be "conquered."  there are few ways to disrespect the mountain more than holding such a view.  on the slope that day, i was humbled.  i was torn down by my own inner struggles that i brought to colorado when i traveled here.  on this mountainside i was laid bare.  and i felt everything breathing around me, whispering to me to "let it go."

let go of the anger i was living with...   let go of everything holding back tears from a life turned upside down over the last year....  let go of my desire to conquer as a way to redemption....  let go of my illusion of control...  and live......

i felt myself being reborn.......

on that mountain side...   i cried hard for a long while.  what my book had been speaking of, "the gift of tears" was a gift i experienced for the first time that day.  the "gift of tears" is not simply having tears (which i had of course had many times in my life), but a qualitatively intensified form of tears whose fruit is joy.  i cannot put into words the peace that washed over me as my death was sitting right in front of me, not as enemy, stranger, or something to be feared....   but friend.

more clear than any other moment in my life, i knew i was going to die.

Whoever can weep over himself for one hour is greater than

the one who is able to teach the whole world; whoever recognizes the

depth of his frailty is greater than the one who sees visions

of angels.

     ---  Isaac of Ninive

i made it back down the mountain.  that trip back down is my own.  but needless to say, i came down a changed man.....  through and through.  and although i didn't know this at the time, i can easily look back and locate the transformation in hindsight.  it was a mountain top experience that occurred just short of the mountain top.

since this trip, i have made it back to colorado and to the top of four 14ers.  and every time i have approached the summit, i continue to be washed over by tears that come from places i do not typically have access to internally.  so powerful are these summit experiences, where i relive the awakening that took place in my life the first time i attempted to summit elbert.

the metaphor of climbing these majestic mountains is no longer about "conquering" but "finding."  ....about "struggle" and about reaching places that one only reaches through pain and belief in oneself.  climbing these mountains is an affirmation of all the life inside me, and the depths of strength i now know i have.  all of this rests in the arms of the awareness and embracing of my inevitable death.  and as alan jones states in his book, this is not that which leads to despair, withdrawal, or passivity..... but rather that which becomes the lens through which you view and engage life, the basis for living and being in the world.

...In a flash of lightning.  Then a damp gust

Bringing rain....

     ---- T.S. Eliot, from The Wasteland

when i got home from this unforgettable trip.....  i quickly turned to designing a very simple framed "graphic" i had envisioned while sitting alone in the hotel in the small town of twin lakes.  i printed it out, framed it, and placed it above my bed.  to this day, the frame sits next to my bed.  its really no graphic at all....   for on the all white background is nothing but perhaps the most fundamental truth: