I’m a agency believer that have and data play key roles in our angling success. They offer us a leg up on, say, the rank newbie, whose expertise and data by definition are restricted, shallow. However I additionally imagine there are occasions when expertise and data can work towards us, after they conspire to hamstring success as an alternative of promulgate it.
If we’re alert and attentive after we’re fishing, the buildup of our expertise over time equips us with an understanding of fish conduct, insect exercise patterns, seasonal rhythms, and the influences of varied sorts of climate. It turns into doable to foretell—usually with uncanny accuracy—the place and when to search out one of the best fishing. As these predictions come to go repeatedly, the traces of considering that begat them can grow to be bolstered and inflexible. A sure narrowing of thought takes place. Tunnel imaginative and prescient of the thoughts, if you’ll. I’ve watched buddies succumb to the results of this phenomena many instances. They find yourself going fishing solely underneath a set of circumstances thought of to be “optimum” or “peak”. Missing these circumstances, they deign by no means to depart the home. Whither then the prospect for serendipity? I imply, so far as I can inform, not going fishing just about ensures not catching something.
I fall into this lure every now and then myself. Right here’s an occasion the place I dodged it—barely. It was a mid-June day, and after arriving residence from the morning shift on the fly store, I felt the urge to go fishing. My kitchen clock learn 1:00 p.m. Now, the afternoon was already sizzling and sunny—precisely the sort of afternoon that, in terms of fishing, my expertise says to dismiss outright.
However the season was nonetheless younger and I used to be antsy, so into the automobile went my gear. Preventing my higher judgement the entire approach, I drove to the Madison River north of city. I figured my afternoon would probably quantity to nothing greater than a pleasant stroll alongside the river however, hey, a minimum of I’d be fishing. And for 2 lengthy hours underneath a sun-shot sky, that’s precisely what I received—a pleasant stroll. Upriver. Fairly a good distance.
Then, whereas rounding an undistinguished bend, I spied what seemed to be the remnants of a riseform. I stared the spot down. 5 minutes handed; nothing confirmed. Understanding I had nothing to lose by making a number of casts, I labored my approach into place and supplied up a Pale Morning Dun. As my second solid curled downstream, a fairly giant trout rose up and summarily inhaled my fly. A spirited battle ensued, culminating within the netting of a stupendous feminine brown trout.
For the rest of the afternoon I by no means noticed one other fish, by no means caught one other fish. My instinct had primarily been appropriate—this was not a day for hatches, there could be no feeding fish. However by deliberately disregarding what expertise and data had been telling me, I remained open to the potential for serendipity. A serendipity manifested in shades of copper, yellow and purple—none of which I’ll quickly neglect. Certainly, that lone trout was a robust, telling reminder that typically expertise and data can take you solely up to now.