There is a hint of autumn in the air these days.
I guess that shouldn’t be much of a surprise considering September is but a few days away.
I like the autumn. For the better part of 30 years, come each fall I have packed my gear and headed to the runs and riffles of one of my favourite rivers or streams, mostly just to get away and enjoy some peace and quiet.
I look forward to just standing on the banks of the river, breathing in the cool crisp autumn air and enjoying the sense of camaraderie that comes with simply casting a line with fellow anglers.
We rarely talk. I would even go so far as to say that I haven’t had much more than a nodding acquaintance with but a few. We don’t need to talk. We are there to fish and, more often than not, be alone with our own thoughts. At least that’s the way it is with me.
Whether I catch fish or not, I know that I feel good just being there on the banks of the river.
Time spent fishing has always given me an opportunity to reflect on the past and contemplate the future.
Things make sense when I’m out on the river. Complicated problems become simpler and, well, things just seem to have a way of falling into place after a while when you think about them out on the river.
When I’m out on the river, the burdens of life are lifted from my shoulders. As for catching fish, I have never really cared whether I catch anything or not.
It just feels good being out there.
Having said that, when I do have a fish on, everything else disappears from my mind. All I care about is the moment.
For a few special, electrically-charged, exhilarating minutes, it’s just me and the fish – the eternal struggle of predator and prey.
It’s hard to express such feelings in words. If you understand what I’m saying, you already know. If you don’t, you never will.
When I am standing knee-deep in the fast flowing waters of one of my favourite streams somewhere, I feel content.
If I happen to be lucky enough to tie into a bright, shiny silver 10-pound spring-run salmon or a winter-run steelhead, well, that’s another thing that’s hard to put into words.
I have already made plans to spend a week at Beaver Lake with a friend but, after that, I think maybe I’ll give my friend Cory a call and see if he can get away for some steelheading on the Vedder River.
We fish up top where there are not quite as many anglers casting a line. We like it that way. Cory likes to concentrate on his fishing and I just like to get away from people.
Neither trip will cost all that much in gas and the good thing about spending time fishing with friends is, well, getting to spend time with friends.
It’s nice just to be able to stand upstream from someone and not feel obliged to talk to them about anything if you don’t feel like it – especially when you’re with someone who pretty well already knows what you are thinking. That was one of the things that I liked most about going fishing with my old dog Duff. Not that she ever really listened to me, but you get my point.
I enjoy the friends I have because I don’t have to talk to them all that much.
We talk about the things that matter.
Although, as time goes by, I do find that not all that much really seems to matter.
All I know for sure is that I enjoy the peace and quiet that comes with being out on the river as much as I enjoy my friends. So I guess things really do fall into place.
