The Optimist: A Case for the Fly Fishing Life

The fishing is broader than the days, they add up and become part of a life.

Rainbow trout don’t have a care in the world. They’re eager to eat, jump in the air, and come to hand. Not brown trout. They’re finicky and judgmental, they brood.

Brown trout lead anglers into territory where emotion overwhelms judgment.

wonder what it means to commit yourself to a place. I know that question can’t be answered in the abstract.

I’ve resorted to studying lunar cycles, hurricane histories, and weather almanacs. It never works. Now I give in to chance, point at the calendar, and throw a dart with the knowledge that I’m courting meteorological disaster.

I focus on the fact that I’m here for my pleasure. Fishing trips can get hijacked by expectations.

Perhaps it’s just that Maine has its own way of doing things. It can be fancy or gritty, often in close proximity. That dynamic gives Maine its muscular charm.

The next morning we go outside and start rigging up our rods. This is still one of my favorite times of any trip. Nothing has been marred. It’s like opening day in a baseball season—no losses yet, no unearned runs.

Anglers are given to hunches and contrary opinions; we have a weakness for going our own way against popular belief.