By Rick Reyer for the Wausau Pilot & Review
In his book, “Trout Madness,” Robert Traver wrote, “The true angler approaches the first day of fishing with all the sense of wonder and awe of a child approaching Christmas.” This is The I find myself drifting off almost every early spring in anticipation of a big day in Wisconsin.
While the book chronicles Traver’s often hilarious escapades on trout water with his fly rod in the UP, it provides a look into the minds of middle-aged and older men who would rather spend their time around wilderness than a sea of people. .
A few weeks ago, the International Fly-Fishing Film Festival made a stop in my hometown of Wausau. Seven incredible short films were shown, and it reminded me that the sport is equal parts art, cunning and skill, all built around what my friend Gary Borger – international fly expert – calls fishing in its own right – in presentation.
“Performing is more than casting and handling the line…more than the right fly…more than understanding and finding the fish. The presentation is the integrated whole,” he says in his book, “Presenting.”
Most of my fly-fishing experiences have been on rivers and streams in the north central region of Wisconsin. I am satisfied with that. There’s nothing like a river trout, brown or brookie, that takes the fly off the end of your line and brings it to play. Have you ever watched, in person, a fly-fisher actually cast a line? It is absolutely mesmerizing. I have been lucky enough to have seen many great and expert casts over the years. The idea is that the rod is an extension of the wrist and arm, and it is the line that is cast, not the fly. Landing the fly exactly where the angler wants it to go is the result of a perfectly cast line waiting for the target to latch on, then it does.
It is truly a visual art and sound.
I remember Borger once telling me, “You can’t get the skill until you’re taught properly.” He took the time to teach me the basics of fly-fishing. Being taught by a master is a very humbling experience. However, I still take the simple lessons of matching the hatch, tying the right knot, and calmly making the right cast, far from perfect as it was. I distinctly remember landing a maple and a spruce on the same trip. I’ll save Euell Gibbons for another time.
I would consider myself a lifelong intermediate in this field. However, walking out into a cool flowing stream and having the current of water wrap around my ankles, legs and hips makes me feel part of that stream, as one with the ecosystem and nature itself. That gets me every time. That connection made me fall in love with the sport. To be fair, the connection to God’s creation has fueled my love for all my outdoor pursuits.
Young people understand this too. Around the magical pre-teen years, the door opens to a connection with nature and the outdoors. However, with all the distractions at the moment, that door is only open for an awfully short time. Encouraged by a caring adult, that door can remain open for a new generation of passionate and ethical anglers, hunters, campers, hikers and nature lovers. People who care about the environment in which they are involved. People who pay trail and park fees and buy licenses to benefit from the accommodation. People who develop a lifelong passion for the outdoors.
This is exactly why we need more young people exposed to the outdoors and taught in a way that cultivates that passion. My hope is that my son and his generation will become mentors, carrying on the tradition of teaching our grandchildren the value of our connection with nature.
Traver closes “Trout Madness” with a funeral litany on the last day of fishing.
“Fishing is no longer a sport; the fisherman himself was tired of the dog; the increase is no longer reliable; spawn-laden trout are very easy to catch; and to take one of these now is to bite off one’s nose,” he wrote. “Amen.”
Rick Reyer was a lifelong hunting and fishing enthusiast. He is a retired broadcaster who lives in Wausau.
