I took all the shots but not all the fish were caught by me. The ones that were clearly not released were caught (and kept) by other fishermen.
Fly fishing is an experience in meditation; the act of casting, watching the line drift in a current and looking for a strike makes unwanted, intrusive thoughts almost impossible.
By the way -- did I read that you're a fan of good Pizza? If so, if/when you head out my way for some fishing in the lake just down the mountainside from my little Pocono house, once it gets to around sunset, we'll head down the road to a place that makes really outstanding pizza it's my treat the beer too if you're so inclined.
I love goodpizza Mac. That sounds like a great deal. Perhaps a ice cold beer, just one cos I'm not much of a drinker. OK, you twisted my arm, two it is...LOL
Grandpa taking his grandson fishing. Heaven Mac, simply heaven.
Grandpa taking his grandson fishing. Heaven Mac, simply heaven.
I wrote a short story about this as follows
"I SACRIFICE PRINCIPLE FOR LOVE"
The Meditative Experience of Fishing Alone at Twilight
Grandfather and Grandson Fishing Late into the Day
Fly Tyers Table Top
I Am Not Without Vises
I Fish Each Summer Night Until It Becomes So Dark, I Cannot See My Hand in Front of My Face
Vanity Thy Name is "Humanity"
My Number One Fishing Friend; Practice Makes Perfect
Years ago, a (former) girl friend of mine made an embarrassing, wrong selection on a multiple choice exam question; she identified a "dogma" as a "female puppy."
There were other reasons (some "bitchy") that relationship went south - not relevant beyond this point in the story, however.
Dogmas - "principles laid down by an authority as being incontrovertibly true" - interestingly, like dogs, can sometimes bite you in the ass. In an unlikely, but nonetheless applicable such dogma, a fishing-dogma of mine, in fact...bit me!
Yes, I said "fishing," and I know an explanation is required because I've opened a "can-of-worms" (pun sort of intended).
Actually, I'm talking grasshoppers...not worms, and a net...not a can.
I'm one of those fly-fisherman/environmentalist types and we don't fish with live bait, neither do we fish with hooks that have barbs (those reverse curved projections near the hook point). Fish will swallow live bait if at first they don't detect the hook, and consequently will swallow the hook which usually kills them. A barbless hook makes its removal from a fish's mouth, smooth and easy.
I'm a "catch-and-release" guy. That's the dogma - catch the fish, land the fish, gently unhook the fish, release the fish unharmed. I'm also an adult (although I do remind my wife occasionally that while "we can't stop the aging process, I can always act immature if I feel like") - and sometimes I do "feel like."
Being an "adult," on days when all those fishing around me are catching fish with bait - worms and minnows, I will still fish with an artificial insect imitation (a "fly") that I tied using thread, feathers and other materials which a hooked fish will know, once "tasting" it, to try and spit out. On such days, I don't catch many fish and being an adult, I stand by my catch-and-release dogma accepting the fact that I don't need to catch fish to enjoy the experience.
My grandson on the other hand, is a child. If he's not catching fish, it's just about impossible for him (after a half-hour or so), to accept...which is difficult for me to accept because when I'm fishing with my grandson, I never want it to end.
Late last summer, neither my grandson nor I, nor anyone fishing near us, were catching fish - not with bait, not with flies...not with anything.
Ideology, dogma and the emotional pragmatism of a grandfather's love...collided. From my dark past as a bait fisherman (hey, I went to the B.A. meetings, o.k.?)...sorry...it stands for "Baitfishers Anonymous," from my past, I pulled out a long-forsaken strategy...no...a formula, a compromise of principle, the rejection of a dogma...for the sake of love...for the sake of making my grandson happy.
Grasshoppers! All around the edge of the lake, like snakes-in-the-grass...scratch that unnecessary metaphor...like the grasshoppers they were...sat, yes... grasshoppers! While not the easiest of creatures to put firmly on a fishhook, once impaled and in the water, they catch fish - all kinds of fish. Even on a hot day in bright sunlight, a hungry bass, a curious trout and damn near any sunfish in America will rise from the shade of a submerged rock or a stand of water lilies to the distressed kicking of a grasshopper that wants out.
With my grandson kicking the grass in front of him as he walked, and I, waiting some ten feet ahead with a net to catch the grasshoppers fleeing in panic from his foot steps, one-at-a-time, the grasshoppers and my grandson made me compromise my fishing principles, my environmentalist ethic, my dogma.
It was in part, "vanity" that caused me to gloat (inwardly to myself) and to praise openly, over-and-over, my grandson, as baffled, fishless veteran anglers watched him catch-and-release while they couldn't even...catch.
I will personally, never go back to the insensitive and evil practice of baitfishing. I am, after all, a man of principle.
But I am also a grandfather; and to fish with my grandson is to receive a gift from the cosmos...from God...from whoever or whatever put men, grandfathers, grandchildren, bass, trout, those not-so-smart sunfish and even...grasshoppers down here.
For those who haven't experienced the words-can-never-express feeling of having a grandchild's fishy hands and fingers give you a hug, if/when you do, like a fish or two I've known, you also will be "caught." And you will then, without the slightest need to think about it, wish to forever...avoid the release.
Beautiful photos and story Mac. My grandson and I would dig up nightcrawlers and he would catch sunfish, perch etc for hours on end. Barbless hook and he was happy to put the fish back. I of course, stuck to my artificial lures and when we headed home I was fishless. But my fishing buddy was happy that he had saved dozens of fish, and he did smell like nightcrawlers.
Actually Mac, your story was quite beautiful, so I read and re-read it. Thanks for making my evening.
What a great photo essay. Seems a bit cold to me to be in the water... but I can enjoy the moment. Haven't been fishing since I was in my 20's. It was something I used to do with my Uncle Herman. A moment lost in time.
There is a sense of calmness one can not deny from looking at the pictures you have provided. Thank you very much. It brings back so many memories as a child when I would get up before dawn and be on the lake or in NC there are a lot of places that are not much more than swamps with cyprus trees standing in the water.
Those were days I didn't mind getting up way before I normally did and the peacefulness and occasional sound of a few ducks flying over would end the silence to allow the sound of frogs to overwhelm you.
One of those lakes looks identical to one of the pictures I put on you group and look forward to the days when I will be either be by myself or a friend enjoying it once more. Thanks for the wonderful change of pace.
Thanks for taking the time for providing this for us.
Whaddya' think?
I do, in fact, catch and release!
I took all the shots but not all the fish were caught by me. The ones that were clearly not released were caught (and kept) by other fishermen.
Fly fishing is an experience in meditation; the act of casting, watching the line drift in a current and looking for a strike makes unwanted, intrusive thoughts almost impossible.
Excellent portfolio Mac. Sharks, bass, trout, bream, crappie, and is that your grandson in some of the photos?
Thanks for the wonderful trip, it was most enjoyable. A lake, sunset, fishing rod in hand, nothing can be better.
My grandson in fact is in two of the pictures.
By the way -- did I read that you're a fan of good Pizza? If so, if/when you head out my way for some fishing in the lake just down the mountainside from my little Pocono house, once it gets to around sunset, we'll head down the road to a place that makes really outstanding pizza it's my treat the beer too if you're so inclined.
I love goodpizza Mac. That sounds like a great deal. Perhaps a ice cold beer, just one cos I'm not much of a drinker. OK, you twisted my arm, two it is...LOL
Grandpa taking his grandson fishing. Heaven Mac, simply heaven.
I wrote a short story about this as follows
Nice feel to it, A. Mac. I like the silhouette shots.
Beautiful photos and story Mac. My grandson and I would dig up nightcrawlers and he would catch sunfish, perch etc for hours on end. Barbless hook and he was happy to put the fish back. I of course, stuck to my artificial lures and when we headed home I was fishless. But my fishing buddy was happy that he had saved dozens of fish, and he did smell like nightcrawlers.
Actually Mac, your story was quite beautiful, so I read and re-read it. Thanks for making my evening.
I love that story Mac. It touched my heart.
What a great photo essay. Seems a bit cold to me to be in the water... but I can enjoy the moment. Haven't been fishing since I was in my 20's. It was something I used to do with my Uncle Herman. A moment lost in time.
There is a sense of calmness one can not deny from looking at the pictures you have provided. Thank you very much. It brings back so many memories as a child when I would get up before dawn and be on the lake or in NC there are a lot of places that are not much more than swamps with cyprus trees standing in the water.
Those were days I didn't mind getting up way before I normally did and the peacefulness and occasional sound of a few ducks flying over would end the silence to allow the sound of frogs to overwhelm you.
Thanks for taking the time for providing this for us.
Thank you for the kind words; I'm just gettin' started
It looks GREAT! Beautiful picture! And fun, too!
How 'bout two days of fishing?