It’s been a while since I’ve cast a line. Not that I haven’t wanted to … It’s just that, well, something was missing. Namely my old fishing partner, Duff.
I remember one day last year I was all prepared to go fishing. I’d gone through all my gear the night before, got up in the morning, made breakfast, loaded the cooler in the back of the Explorer, sat down behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition and just sat there. I couldn’t turn it. I sat there for a while and then went back into the house.
Every time someone has offered to go fishing with me in the past two years, I have come up with all sorts of reasons why I couldn’t go – what with work, doing live performances, having to cut the grass, having to fix the screen door and/or put a coat of paint on the adirondack chairs that sit out in the front yard, and/or going for a walk in the hopes of losing a few pounds. You can see why I just didn’t have the time to go away fishing.
I mean, there were those two weeks I booked to go away to that fishing lodge last year, but like I said, when the time came I just wasn’t into going alone.
However, as the walrus said to the carpenter “the time has come.”
It’s another year and another fishing season. So by the time you are reading this column, I will be out on the water fishing with my new five-weight Sage.
Some one once said that anglers are ever the optimists. I hope so.
I’m looking forward to just sitting out in my boat somewhere and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.
For me, the first cast of any fishing trip is always absolutely ripe with anticipation – not to mention the first cast after almost two years. I’m sure that each cast after that first one will have its own possibilities and potential. But that first cast of the season – well, it holds all the promise of the rest of the season.
When I go fishing, I like to think that I’ll start out early and spend the whole day on the water. Just after six or seven, or maybe a little later, like eight or nine. It all depends on how hard a time I have dragging my carcass out of bed. One thing I always do is make a point of having my terminal tackle set up the night before. Not only do I find it hard to see what I’m doing in early morning light, there’s also something about not having your line in the water when every other angler is already casting the an early morning insect hatch.
Preparation and anticipation may not exactly be one and the same, but experience has taught me that one’s anticipation can be quickly dashed without proper preparation. Fishing is full of anticipation. From the beginning of the season to the end, each cast, each run and each ripple, each seam along the edge of fast flowing waters, each and every insect rise and each bump along the drop-off offers new possibilities and opportunities. Each cast is, indeed, made with a certain amount of anticipation, expectation and trepidation. And the best part of it is that each cast made without a strike is but a prelude to that moment when you do feel a sudden, heart stopping bump on the end of the line.
Like I said, by the time you read this, I’ll be on the water somewhere.
I know it will do me good. For just as there is promise in the first cast of each new season, there is also satisfaction in the memories of past seasons. I was lucky to have had a good fishing partner for so many years.
I’m truly grateful for the memories. Besides, the grass can always wait. So can the screen door for that matter.
