A conversation I had the evening prior with Stephen Wisner, owner of Eau Claire Anglers, reverberated in my head like a ringing bell.
“I just think people should have the experience,” he said. “I found those spots, and it was really cool. And somebody else is going to find them, and they are going to have a really unique experience.”
I was driving a winding road through brown trout colored trees on a cloudy October afternoon. The rain had been falling for three days and rivers were high. I was in a remote location and an unfamiliar state…a place I would have never found without a fishing suggestion from a friend. But Stephen’s words were still in my head. I agreed with him 100%.
The excitement and anticipation that comes along with exploring new water is second to very few things. Finding and catching fish within, what only existed before as a blue line on a map, can bring a satisfaction that will move grown anglers to tears of joy. Would that sense of anticipation and satisfaction be diminished with accompanying directions? Like an open book test, does the satisfaction of an A+ compare to one that has come with an impassioned and dedicated effort without said textbook?
I pulled into the driveway of a local organization and drove around to the back of the building. The sun’s glow behind overcast skies was decreasing by the minute, along with it...my fishing time. Waders, boots, slingpack, and my new St. Croix 4 wt came together in haste before long strides carried me toward the sound of rushing water. I did a 180 degree turn after a quick fall/winter revelation. Dry hands = warm hands. I draped a towel over my slingpack of essentials.
The water was rushing in a rusty brown color. White foam piled up in seams and eddies indicating the flows force. Matted down foliage acted similar to chalk at a crime scene highlighting evidence of the waters presence just hours before. With the clock ticking on this new fishing hole, I tied on my favorite winter streamer in hopes of triggering a few instinctive strikes. “If they are going to eat, they’ll eat this,” I thought while sliding down the muddy slope to the water’s edge. For a moment, I just stood and enjoyed the atmosphere, checking boxes off the “great fishing holes” attribute checklist. I could already tell this was a special place to many.
Three long strips off the kingfisher fly reel relinquished just enough line to do the trick. A half-hearted upstream presentation quickly drifted towards the edge of a bankside seam. Short strips made the streamer dance about 12 inches under the surface, just barely visible from my casting area. The first cast hung near the seam for only a few seconds before a solitary tug gave way to the thumping head shake of a 12 inch brown trout. This particular fish was a perfect template for the fall colors blossoming all around me. Futility met two impassioned leaping attempts at dislodging the barbless fly, and the fish gently glided into the rubber mesh of my long-handle net. Catching a fish in questionable conditions was fulfilling and unanticipated. Catching a fish on the first cast...prompted an obligatory celebration with myself. Fist pump!
Four fish found my streamer in seam one, two more fell for it in seam two. With the clock ticking, It was time to move upstream. The walk through brush and trees made my heart and belly flutter. Being in the wilderness can do this to people. This is the feeling you seek when on blue-line exploratory missions. I perched atop a large rock at the head of a pool and presented downstream. A flash of red was all I had seen before my rod bent under the pressure of another fish. This time, another species. My barbless hook allowed for a quick release of a fish that was too beautiful to describe with words. Like my favorite natural wonders, I could see a million brook trout and not grow tired of the view. Autumn brookies always inspire audible expressions of surprise and wonder. This fish, and the next, made me sit back and wonder why I was so lucky. Then, it was something else Stephen had said the day before that helped me come to grips with the satisfaction I was beginning to feel deep down inside my fishing bones.
“Then, you have someone who grows to trust you enough who would say, ‘hey, I’m going to show you something’,” he said. “That’s different than ‘go to this spot’. Someone takes you under their wing and shows you their stuff...that’s cool to me.”
Location is everything in the fishing world. Hero shots and grip-n-grins are taking over as insta-famous wannabes continue to sprout out of the woodwork. Like creeping jenny in a tomato garden, these photos and posts can draw us in with their beauty, while slowly and painfully killing off a great fishing location. Some bodies of water can only take so much pressure. Fish, can only take so much pressure before things begin to change. Especially when talking trout. The stakes change along with the volatility of the resource.
I understand the feeling of accomplishment that comes along with landing a beautiful fish in a beautiful location. I understand preserving that moment in time can bring stream-cred, partnerships, speaking gigs, and pro staff contracts any professional angler dreams about. It also brings attention. Word will get out, and anglers will take notice. You want a fishing spot to change in a hurry? Post a hero shot all over social media.
Each seam held fish willing to attack the flashy fly. The “just one more fish” mantra was spoken many times before artificial light was required to help me slip and stumble my way back to the truck. The flutter in my belly was still present prompting a howl that echoed through the valley and over the hillside. For me, the excitement and anticipation that came along with exploring this special place was not diminished by the fact that I was given directions by a friend. I would never have found it on my own, and felt humbled to be trusted with the valuable information.
Our quest for the unexpected and surprising, and any ensuing success, can elicit emotions that are almost too powerful to contain. Social media hero shots have provided an outlet for many enthusiasts experiencing this good fortune. I was trusted enough to be guided to this special location, and to a special fishing experience. Writing...is my way of expressing these emotions. Both outlets share similar purposes, but not always a similar impact. Taking care of our resources involves more than just conservation and preservation. An accountable approach to its utilization and the ceremonial celebration should be considered first and foremost. Treat nature like you would a good friend who has entrusted you with a new fishing spot. The future of our resources depends on it.
