I like to fly fish but why?
You never know what the most important questions are in life, much less the answers. So when a friend asked me why I was fishing with a fly, I could not give an exact answer.
At home and with more time to meditate, I began to think about that question. Why do I often think of rivers, trouts and flies during the day? I could not come to any conclusions, I was blank, I did not know how to answer a question that has marked my life since childhood.
After several days, and after much meditation on the subject, I found a way to respond to my friend. For this I had to change the question for another: What would happen if for some reason of health had to stop fishing forever? The mere idea of not going back to tread on a river gave me many emotions, now if I could answer my friend.
The first thing that came to mind was the colors of the different seasons like autumn orange or spring green. At first in March the branches of the bare trees were before the sun began to warm and the first green leaves were born.
Then the flowers explode and we see the colors of nature: yellow, purple and white we see meadows and slopes, and every time the air blows I can smell their fragrances.
Then I see the fire falling from the sky, and the greens of the grass are stained with gold, and the scent of a flock of naked sheep in the shade of a tree came to me, escaping from the hell that was in the light. Meanwhile, to refresh myself, I wet my head and arms that are already brown from the long days of fishing.
And when I raised my head I felt a few drops that began to wet my forehead, that fine rain that accompanies the leaves of the trees already yellow in their fall and at the end of the season when the bell announced the end of recess.
Then I realize that I have not caught any trout. Without hurry I took out a cigar and lit it, I was alone in that river that I liked so much. Then I saw a trout eat, imperceptible in the eyes of a human being but not a fisherman. Ten yards from me I had 25 inches of trout eating relaxed the last ants of the season. Anxious but calm I changed the fly, I extinguished the cigar and put the filter in some of the pockets of the vest. Then prepare the reed and the reel to get to the trout. I gently put a meter in front of the trout, which slowly rose to eat the fly. Hitting and fighting, splashing water, quick hands picking up the line so they do not get tangled; I approached him and with a natural movement, repeatedly, I entered my nets.
In the end I concluded that for me, and for most fishermen, fishing is the therapy that allows me to get up in the morning wanting to live, take the car and go to the river and feel free again.
Brides pass, the old people say goodbye leaving us their memories, children never know how they are going to be, but the trout is there waiting for you to visit your home and see who is the most intelligent of the two. Some days I win.