Dry spells
If you’re an angler who feels that the old saying about ‘fishing’ not being called ‘catching’ is disagreeable and unreasonable, you’ve probably experienced some uncomfortable ‘droughts’ in fishing success. I know this, because I’m just this kind of angler, and because I grapple constantly with my own expectations of angling achievement.
An angler’s life is teeming with contradiction: I enjoy scenic landscapes and fresh air, but only after I’ve caught enough fish. I enjoy catching fish, but I choose to target fish which are seldom caught. And so, when I’m experiencing angling melancholy, there is rarely anyone or anything to blame but my own neuroses.
If asked to explain these peculiarities, non-angling friends and partners may posit that anglers have an unhealthy proclivity towards misery and self-pity. Admittedly, this cynical explanation feels uncomfortably compelling to me at times. Thankfully, there are other, less shameful explanations too. In the foundational 1676 work titled “The Compleat Angler,” Izaak Walton’s main character Piscator offers a more optimistic rationale for angling quirks: “Rivers and the inhabitants of the watery elements are made for wise men to contemplate and for fools to pass by without consideration.” Cheers Izaak. I like to rationalize my ‘dry spells’ by re-framing them as worthy challenges, and food for contemplation.
Angling is an exercise in replication, as well as appreciation of nature, where success is defined by an angler and their ‘presentation’ becoming indiscernible from the ‘natural’ order. When a fish bites, the angler’s integration with nature is undeniable. We’re working constantly to align ourselves with nature, whether we realize it or not. If done properly, the exercise feels organic, and even effortless. So, why do I so often feel like I’m swimming upstream? We anglers have a relationship with the unforgivable: the dynamism of nature demands our constant attention, and challenging one’s understanding of things is both necessary and inevitable in fishing. Anglers must ‘toe the line’ between adversary and acceptance— the correct and timely selection of each being its own art form.
Unfortunately, it’s becoming less and less fashionable for anglers to preoccupy themselves solely with catching fish. Dry spells aren’t only the result of nature’s dynamism and the unpredictability of fish, but the very real and sometimes drastic deterioration of both. Modern anglers
may seem to be swimming upstream more, and with greater resistance than their predecessors, and fishery declines are a major part of this. It’s not so easy for an angler to go on fishing without serious consideration of aquatic resource health. If we adhere to the ‘land ethic’ philosophy of Aldo Leopold, then we are responsible for seeking out and enacting solutions to these problems. As a proponent of this philosophy, I’m sometimes asked if I find the term “angler stewardship” to be oxymoronic. I respond by simply reminding myself—and then explaining to the inquisitor—that an angler’s life is steeped in contradiction.
To some, these sentiments will seem like mad ramblings, while a small minority may find them all too relatable. In any case, I hope that they will entertain and stimulate. It may actually be true that many days spent fishing in complete solitude result in lunacy. Or, maybe it’s the opposite. In David James Duncan’s “The River Why,” the main character Gus Orviston arrives at this conclusion: “I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material—awesome, malleable, older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless—for it let a man become precisely what he alone made of himself.” Cheers Gus. I prefer to view dry spells as opportunities for revelation.