Why I fish for trout

Why I fish:
Roderick Haig-Brown ( A River Never Sleeps) perhaps expressed it best when he wrote: ‘perhaps fishing is just an excuse to be near rivers. If so, I’m glad I thought of it.’
To be alongside a wild NZ river, with the crystal-clear water rushing by, in a bush-clad pristine valley, with only your thoughts as company – that is why I fish.














It is also the challenge of mastering a highly skillful art. As Norman McLean (A River Runs Through It) said: ‘art comes by grace and grace does not come easily.’ If flyfishing was easy, we would tire of it. Although we may seek perfection, we never achieve it. A trout somewhere, sometime will make a fool of us. But learning the ways to approach a trout, to cast to it so as not to disturb it, to fool it with an imitation of its natural food – especially if you have tied the fly yourself, that is what it flyfishing is all about.

Some other angling writer's views:

It is the anticipation and expectation that is always present in a new fishing day – be it on new water, or familiar territory. There can never be two fishing days the same as component is variable: the river, the weather, the angler’s patience, but most of all the fish. Some days they will be fighting to seize your fly, other days nothing you do will persuade them to even look at your offering.

But for all the newness in a fishing day, there is also the sameness. The ritual of flyfishing that gives us a sense of stability and order – tackling up when we reach the water, putting on a new trace, attaching our favourite fly, stripping out line for the first cast of the day, the rhythm of the fly rod as we gradually lengthen line, the light landing of the line, the retrieve of loose line and the heightened awareness as we watch indicator or fly.

It is the grace and symmetry of flyfishing. The indescribable beauty of an unfurling line silhouetted against the morning mist. The cadence and rhythm of false casting with a magic graphite wand that technology has bequeathed to us.

It is the power and strength and beauty that is a wild trout. And brings out those predatory instincts long buried under a veneer of civilisation. But when we release the prized trout, it is the sense of rightness – that this beautiful creature deserves its freedom and we are blessed if we grant this. It is the neutrality of the quarry. Money, influence nor power have any impact on the trout’s inclination to accept the fly. Nor it concerned about colour, creed, gender, intelligence, looks or status. The trout cares only about the ability of its pursuer and that must be earned the hard way – there are no shortcuts or easy answers.

And it is the cameraderie that is fishing. The joy in sharing this magical experience with a tried and trusted fishing mate. The joys that are common to all anglers no matter what their position in life. The sharing of troutcatching tales over a dram in the evening when every aspect tends to be just a tad exaggerated.












But perhaps, inadequate wordsmith that I am, I'll leave the last word to
Robert Traver:

I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always taste better out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not because I regard fishing as so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not nearly so much fun.

A modern adaptation:

I fish because I love to:

• because I love the places where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the places where crowds of people are found which are invariably ugly
• because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing that I can escape when fishing
• because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is always an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion
• because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience
• because I suspect that men are travelling this way for the last time and I don't want to waste the trip
• because, mercifully, there are no Inboxes on trout waters
• because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness
• because Merlot out of an old mug always tastes better out there
• because maybe one day I might catch a twenty pounder
  
• not because I regard fishing as so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not nearly so much fun.

with apologies to Robert