The Middle River Group, LLC

fly fishing, conservation and politics.

Reflections

Counting coup

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Fall

It is not always the best time for fishing, at least in the mountain streams here in Virginia. The water levels can be iffy and more importantly the brook trout are going about their biological imperative. Don’t want to upset that apple cart!

So with time on my hands I like to go scout out some of my favorite streams or pick a new blue line to investigate.

When I am fishing I tend to get a little tunnel vision. I am looking through the water so hard that I sometimes forget to look around and enjoy the view. I probably know my location on many streams by what the bottom of the stream looks like rather than what the banks or surroundings look like.

For me fall is a great time for hiking and sight (site?) seeing. I still look at the water but I really have a chance to see what is surrounding all that water. A chance to see where I am fishing not just what I am fishing.

Of course I tote my tenkara rod and a few flies. And while I am not looking to fish, if the brookies happen to be rising then I just might decide to float a dry their way. But in the fall I like to just count coup on them.

How to count coup

During the year some of my flies will get the hooks broken at the bend. I keep the Adams’, BWOs or  Wulffs  and use them in the fall. I am not trying to catch the fish, just trying to get them to take the fly.

Counting coup.

Kind fun and let’s them get back to the more important business of reproduction.

Old dogs

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The comfort of an old friend.

who sez i snore???

Her name is Ashby. 14 years old. Spends most of her day not more than a few feet from wherever I am.

My clients indulge both us when she snores during conference calls and I forget to mute the phone or drop everything for a run to the vet because a 14 year old with a cancer history takes precedence.

As much as I wish we could spend more days wading up some blue line looking for fishing holes, her snores are just fine with me these days.

almost like a neon beer sign

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Shin Deep

My copy of Shin Deep by pal Chris Hunt arrived this week. Haven’t read very far but not surprisingly there is already a turn of phrase about brook trout that deserves quoting:

In the last few moments of the day’s light, I was able to glimpse the brilliance that makes brook trout, no matter their size, so wonderfully rewarding to the fly fisherman. Its deep colors seemed to provide a beacon of light in the near darkness of the evening, almost like a neon beer sign in a dank, dark, but wonderfully familiar tavern. You can’t help but stare at it.

Yup, brook trout water does have that familiar tavern feel, is it any wonder we care so much for these fish?

R2 bellies up to the bar

When you walk through the woods

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Many years ago when I was contemplating my own view of religion, divine beings and spirituality my father gave me a poem, When you walk through the woods. The poem speaks of the things you see, hear and feel as you walk through the woods and realize those things are not of the hand of man.

The poem as it was know in my family, became a touchstone for me as it helped define my love for the wild places. Even today when I take my fly rod and venture up some remote blue line stream I recall portions of that poem.

The poem got new life for me yesterday.

My friend Chris Hunt who pens the excellent Eat More Brook Trout blog has posted a truly delightful story, God and Fly Fishing, about his recent appointment to oversee Christian education in his parish.

But after a bit of reflection, I agreed to do the job, largely because I think there a lot of people like me out there who don’t necessarily buy into the Biblical aspect of religion, but who value the overarching message of the faith that asks for good deeds, a life well-lived and a charitable heart.

And we get a sip of wine on Sunday mornings to take the edge off.

He goes on to make the connection to fly-fishing that speaks to many of us.

I’m not sure how much credence my priest put in my carefully crafted answers about how my faith and my fly fishing are often one in the same. I think it’s kitschy and probably a bit disingenuous to say that I’m closest to God when I’m fishing, but it’s not far from the truth, either. A lot of anglers—especially backcountry anglers who loathe the idea of fishing along the road when other options are available, or who don’t care for the idea of elbow-to-elbow fishing along some crowded stretch of river—know exactly what I mean.

Do your self a favor and give it a read…

Logging in the karma points

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It is not all fly-fishing and play time here at Dispatches.

Sometimes we get a tasking that takes us back to a different aspect of our outdoor roots…

Yes, of course those are Mountain Khakis AUP’s. Read the description, they got it right…

Catch and release, catch and eat or quit fishing?

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There is a very provocative and thoughtful discussion on fishing ethics, Catching, but Not Releasing in the New York Times’ Room for Debate. It well worth the read.

Here are the topics and authors.

Purity and Predation by James Babb, Gray’s Sporting Journal

Drive a Prius, Eat a Fish by Chris Hunt, Trout Unlimited

An Invasive Species or a Steelhead Run? by Cathy Beck, fishing guide, Frontiers International

The Shifting Moral High Ground by Dylan Tomine, fisherman and writer

Causing Pain for Our Pleasure by Lynne Sneddon, fish biologist, University of Liverpool, and

Feeling Little Pain by James Rose, zoologist, University of Wyoming

The comments are lengthy on these posts but if the topic intrigues you then the comments offer more grist for that particular mill.
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