Up'North Maine Fly Castings

- Tonight I followed the tail end of a thunderstorm up to the pond in hopes of getting a little fishing in between storms. Water levels have risen substantially, but I didn’t care. A short break in the clouds offered me a welcome window for some casting, so I quickly began work launching line from my familiar spot on the bridge. Keeping a weary eye on the sky, and an ear out for the inevitable thunder that would surely echo through the valley, I began to vigorously work an active seem rolling off the edge of an old cement pier.
 
Strip, Strip, float
Strip, Strip, float
 
A lone salmon casually made his way to the surface to inspect my fly before disappearing into the murky water below. I remembered the spot and started fanning my cast to the opposite side of the pier, slowly working my way back towards where I last saw my landlocked friend. Again he appeared ever so slowly before turning away unimpressed. This time I picked up and threw a few yards further, dead drifting and hoping for the best. One aggressive swipe and a miss on my part and I was left laughing and shaking my head. I may have succeeded in fooling him, but he still managed the upper hand in the end.
 

 
I regained my composure and started casting again to the far side of the pier, gradually working my way across and back just as I had before. This time it was to no avail. As I began to question my next move I adjusted the hood of my rain coat and cursed under my breath as an approaching storm began to make it’s presence known. A clap of thunder rang out followed shortly by flash of lightning that tore through the sky like a warning from the heavens. It was time to stop waving my 9 foot graphite lightning rod overhead.
 
I quickly packed it up and made for the truck, snickering at the sky once I quickly found shelter from the storm. I drove to the edge of the pond and put the truck in park, opting to wait out what I thought was a passing event. As the skies continued their hellish dance all around me, oddly enough I found myself at ease. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t the fishing that drew me to this location night after night. I sat mesmerized at this emerging theory.
 

 
It seems like lately, the more I fish the better I feel. The conflict I find in this is that while the rhythmic motions that come with casting always put my mind at ease, simply being in a place so familiar puts a smile on my face. I would in no way, shape, or form call it the most remote place in the world, but somewhere in the midst of all the organized chaos, I find myself constantly drawn to that historic location. Time after time I pass up more remote, and even more productive waters for that simple slice of concrete heaven.
 
Sometimes I catch fish, and sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I enjoy the company of others, and sometimes I’m alone.
 
No matter the night, I always get the chance to sort out the day’s events and clear my head. Looking back at all of the curve balls life has thrown at me lately, I hold tightly to this welcome getaway. All the trials and tribulations, mixed with great success and the pride the comes from overcoming and accomplishing life goals, has left me with mixed feelings lately. Surely a post-college phase that many experience, right? But even as I move on to bigger and better things; a steady career and perhaps a family someday, I know deep down places like that bridge will never lose their undeniable grasp that firmly grips my soul.
 
 
When all is said and done, It is plain to see that sometimes, what I seek when fly fishing really has very little to do with the fish at all..
 
-Ben

2 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

• ZJR posted on July 18, 2010
  Great post!
• MG posted on July 14, 2010
  Now THATS a gosh darn fishing report!