Soothing Moments in the River

 

brown trout 1 photoshopped

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.
Norman Maclean

My friend Bill Barksdale arrived at my door at 6 a.m. and we made our second journey to the waters, this time the White River.  The water levels were low and sluggish, and so were the trout, but I did manage to coax this 5-inch brown to take my fly. Fortunately, I was able to lift his sweet face out of the waters for a portrait, and then a quick release.

I was pleased with the kind of photo my Samsung phone was able to make, but Bill went to work with his high-end camera and took several shots to record our morning:  I’m surprised that I’m not scowling more deeply as this river has required tiny flies that my eyes don’t see as well as they did in younger days.

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I could not have dialed up a more perfect day, spending most of it in the river. Watching trout rise to sip flies from the surface (except for mine), thrills me to the core.  For much of the morning, I gazed at row after row of trout, lined up to feed on whatever drifted past them (except for my own flies), their tails and fins undulating softly in the current.  All of it produced such hypnotic sensations, and I felt that I could have watched these sights for days.  And wade fishing in trout streams has always settled my pulse rate.  The past week has been fast-paced for me, with much travel, many daily appointments and responsibilities, and plenty of second-guessing.  I now face two consecutive days of judging art competitions, but tomorrow’s will be held late in the day, and then Saturday’s will happen in the morning. Fortunately for me, the activities are spread out, allowing me quality time to unwind between my responsibilities.  And so far, I’ve managed the perfect blend of making watercolors outside and fly fishing.  The week has flown by at warp speed and I’m astonished tonight to realize I have only two full days remaining at this event, before journeying back home to return to my full-time job.  I’m confident that once I return home, my batteries will be charged sufficiently for me to resume my duties.

Thanks for staying with me this week.

 

 

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2 Responses to “Soothing Moments in the River”

  1. Xraypics Says:

    That looks lovely. I’ve never tried fly fishing and to me it seems the only type of fishing I could enjoy. Sitting on a bank waiting for something to bite on an innocent worm doesn’t sound like my cup of tea. My girlfriend’s father would spend hours practicing on the lawn; “whipping the water” he called it in his Scottish brogue.

    Like

    • davidtripp Says:

      Unfortunately, I still whip the water, but not on purpose (I want to crawl under a rock every time that happens). I also grew up sitting on a bank, waiting for something to happen, and didn’t pick up a fly rod till I was nearly fifty. Fly fishing is like the teenager finally learning to drive a stick shift–you’re always busy and feel that you are actually part of the process. I love fly casting, mending the line, watching the drift, studying the water movements–all of that is intoxicating to me. The trout have not been very active on the end of my line the last two days, but still, when something out there flashes in the water, all my nerve endings tingle.

      Liked by 1 person

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