It’s like a tear that tracks down a sad face...

Reflections

 

The lake is a beautiful place but in a way that is not pretty some times. It’s not like my wife’s smile that invites you into a confidence, it’s not like the beauty of a baby that begs to be picked up, its’ not like a bubbly freestone steam that needs to be meandered along.

No, rather it’s like a tear that tracks down a sad face, it’s like a lost dog that comes and licks your hand, it’s like a frost crackling under your feet biting your toes, it’s like a pretty girl lost suddenly impinging on your mind  causing you to pause.

It’s many things but like all of nature its beauty has a sharp edge where life is on the edge of the next wave, the next wind, the next encounter, the next misstep. The loneliness of the fisherman allows for a full immersion into this world. It folds around you like a warm blanket on a cold night, it overcomes your senses and for fleeting moments it allows you some small insight into the immensity and awesome power of creation.

Your vison is suddenly expanded and you see the horizon not as a line but as an extension of yourself. You see the tree not as a plant but as a fellow living thing standing against the wind as you are. You see the eagle not as a bird but as a brother striving with all his might to achieve. You see the fish not as a catch but as a fellow traveller on a long road into the unknown. But mostly you see yourself as a little cog in an immense universal clock whirring around in times enthral, insignificant yes, but still a part of its work.

Thankyou for letting me share a piece of my fishing trip yesterday. If you have any reflections I would love to read them.

One of my sayings as a fisherman is "To me its' just a sport to 'them' its life itself."

John Condliffe is an avid fisherman.

A turtle took my bait, largest turtle I have ever seen. He swam off unharmed.

 

 A cormorant lost his life strangled by someone's fishing line. Sad very sad, I cut him down, nothing deserves to die like this.

Little swallows  live in the flooded trees dotted about the lake (if you look carefully  one can be seen at the top of one of the branches) they swoop and catch the insects close and on the water. They live their whole lives in or around these trees, fancy your whole life revolving around a tree! But what a tree! They are a fisherman's friend because they tell you where the insects are. (Important for a fly fisherman)