Seven months ago I drove to west central Wisconsin to go trout fishing. It was Saturday the 13th to be
exact, and school was about to begin in two days. I wanted to squeeze in one more outing. I probably had convinced myself that I needed
one more outing. They say you learned everything
you need to know for life while attending kindergarten, but I beg to
differ. I’m not knocking kindergarten;
like any good pyramid, you need a strong base or else everything’s going to
crumble. Plus, I know some kindergarten
teachers, and they sell out to do what they need to do, to provide these little
ones everything they need to know at age 5 or 6. Thinking back to that trip, however, I realize that fishing taught me everything I needed to know. Granted, I’m a bit older now, and rather
removed from my elementary school days, but think of the wisdom, background
experience, and prior knowledge I could apply to any given situation as a result of what I learned. You don’t have that applicable knowledge when
you’re only half a decade old. And so I
left early in the morning, and drove North with a revision from
Robert Fulghun’s poem in my mind. (See the
link for the original poem at: Kindergarten Poem)
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Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and
how to be, I learned while trout fishing.
Wisdom was not found within formal schooling, but in standing in cold,
clear water. These are the things I
learned:
“Share everything.” This includes the stream, even when you’ve
driven for three hours to have it to yourself.
Apparently even when two middle aged guys hop out of a truck, and are
already getting their gear together when you drive up to the gravel pullover at
daybreak.
“Play fair, and don’t hit people.” Even when you’ve come to this creek numerous
times and nobody has ever been there before, and you’re slightly ticked
off. Talk about the creek with the
fellow fisherman and ask where they’re planning to start; all while trying to
hover under your open back hatch to avoid a driving rain. What other knucklehead would dare to venture
here under such conditions? What
knuckleheads, since there were two of them. Didn’t they know I had been planning on
fishing that morning? I was disappointed
to see another living soul at that point.
“Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.” The two men didn’t know what I was saying, or
plotting in my mind, so I apologized to the Man upstairs. I asked for forgiveness. God
must have had a reason I suppose. I
thought about this as I hiked in the rain down into the valley veiled in mist.
“Live a balanced life.” I began far down river and fished up. The other two guys were halfway between me and
the bridge we would get out at. It was
as balanced as I could think of getting.
I couldn’t believe it, however, after fishing for a spell, when I
managed to catch up with them. I
hunkered down to remain undetected. The
rain had quit, and although overcast, it was perfect for fishing. No wonder I wasn’t catching anything when I
was trailing behind what they had already caught or spooked out. Without the two men seeing me, I hiked all of
the way back past where I had originally started. I decided that I would fish this section
again, after eating something and regaining my wits. I sat and ate lunch on a high bluff, covered
in hemlocks, and overlooking the moving water below. I took a deep breath. I took several deep breaths. School was starting in two days. People were in the creek. I wanted to fish in peace. I wasn’t catching anything. I tried to convince myself it was going to be
ok.
“Take a nap every afternoon.” I wasn’t going to take a nap that afternoon,
as everything was still damp. But I’m
not opposed to it when I’ve had the chance to fish, and fish well, while tiring
myself out. I, however, was not tired as
much as tettering on the edge of being vengeful.
“Be aware of wonder.” I marveled at the bluffs, long worn by moving
waters, and the lushness of the leaves and pine boughs. It was beautiful. I spent time wondering how I could be making
such excellent casts with no payoff. I
wondered, as the clouds cleared and the sun came out, why two different guys, young
guys in their 20’s, would be kayaking through my little trout creek. The paddlers were splashing, and clunking,
and scaring away the fish. They were
scaring those same fish that weren’t biting.
It was ironic I suppose. The guys
said, “Hi” as they zipped on by; obviously enjoying themselves with cameras
mounted on top of their helmets. I’ve
found their video on the web. The
section where they passed the disgruntled fisherman smiling through gritted
teeth had been edited out. I laughed
slightly after they had disappeared downstream.
I think that was ok, in lieu of the fact that with all of these issues,
I still hadn’t “lost it”…yet.
“Everything you need to know is in there
somewhere.” I truly loved being in
the creek that day, and although I enjoy fishing with those I share the passion
with, it was nice to be alone that day.
I needed that before gearing up for another school year. The country around that creek can be breath
taking. In the end, I did manage to
catch a couple of trout and kept one ten inch brown to have as a meal
later. I wouldn’t say it was worth my
time in trout, but I would say it was worth my time in trout fishing. Those are two different things.
“And it is still true; no matter how old you
are when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick
together.” Well, it’s hard to apply that
quote when I was fishing alone. But I
did think of my family when I hiked up out of the creek. I thought of them when I saw all of the barn
swallow nests up under the bridge. It
was like witnessing a reunion. I also
thought of my family as I apparently got out on the wrong side of the
creek. It was a classic mistake of
making a short cut a long cut. I
wondered if I would ever see my loved ones again, as I stumbled my way along
the ditch that sloped steeply away from the roadway above. Due to the steep hill that I was climbing, I
couldn’t get to a point where the roadway was level with the ground where I was
walking. In fact, I couldn’t even jump
up and pull myself over the cement wall that I had walked alongside for the
better part of a hundred yards. I just
couldn’t get up onto the road as it was too high for me to reach. I was getting hot and irritable. I knew the ditch eventually had to come level
with the road, but the brush was becoming impassable and I now had to watch my
footing as I was on chunks of broken concrete that had been dumped over the side
to prevent erosion. One more “hit.” It was one more chance to possibly “lose it.” One more chance to prove I could keep it
together when life throws frustrating circumstances in your face. I turned around and hacked my way back down
to the creek where I had started from. I
crossed over the creek, got out on the other side, and was up on the road in
just a few easy strides. Amazing! I then mountain climbed my way up the steep
road and back to my Jeep; all of this while still in my waders and boots.
Had
it been a good day? As they say, “A bad
day fishing is still better than a good day at work.” So yes, it was good. Was I exhausted? It’s the feeling I typically use to measure
success with when I’m out-of-doors. So
yes, I was exhausted…both physically and mentally; and I still had a three hour
drive home. But just think, all I really
needed to know I learned while on that fishing trip. To that end, it was all good; exhaustively good.
See
you along The Way…
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