How Fly Fishing Became My Sanctuary in Hard Times and an Unexpected Love
I was fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by nature, always participating in various high speed exhilarating activities – downhill ski racing in the winters, mountain biking, rock climbing, and water skiing in the summer. Spending time outdoors always carried an element of danger, and I found myself addicted to the adrenaline rush of hurtling down a mountain or the thrill and fear of scaling a rock face.
Back in 2018 my dad got a scary health diagnosis and all of our worlds were turned upside down. The following day, while grappling with the news, a friend suggested we spend a day fishing in the mountains to take my mind off things. She packed us up, grabbed her fly rod, picked up some flies from the local shop, and off we went. I spent the morning numb or trying to not cry, then I started to cast and I was horrible, and I started to laugh and realized things were going to be okay.
My dad decided he wanted to get back in to fly fishing around this time as well, we bought him a brand-new set up for Father’s Day and he gifted me the first rod and reel he bought himself some 30 years ago. We went out a few times together, and never caught anything, honestly, I’m not even sure if we had a hook tied on half the time. But it was cherished time that we could spend together out in nature just being quiet and relaxing, something different then what we usually did. Fortunately, my dad ended up being okay and the diagnosis was a false alarm, that love of fishing and the time spent slowly in nature had grown within both of us and we kept going.
Then I met a guy who had a cute dog and happened to be an avid fly fisherman. After he decided he wanted to keep me around he started showing me his favourite rivers and helped me catch my first fish, from then on I was hooked (pun intended)! We went to areas that I had grown up enjoying throughout the winter and he introduced them to me in the summer. I started to learn the different rules, the excitement of catching a fish, watched my first hatch and started to improve. We went out with my dad as well, and I watched my boyfriend help him, I got to watch him catch some monsters, and some little fish as well. The best part was always watching the excitement and joy between both of them, watching a rise and eventually catching the fish, or sometimes even more amusing was watching the premature hook set and missing the fish.
My boyfriend has taught me a lot, he’s taken me to rivers and taught me how to read them, the different types of rises, what flies to use, tying proper knots and so much more. He’s watched me get frustrated when the wind is blowing the wrong way, and I can’t get that cast out and redirected me. The biggest thing I’ve learned though is don’t take it too seriously, some days you catch your biggest fish to date, and other days you lose about 10 flies in the trees and only end up catching yourself.
If I’m being honest, learning something new is hard enough from a spouse, let alone learning something like fly fishing. I was lucky enough that his cousin – Will was around in the summers and would come out with us and give me pointers along the way. We have all spent many hours on the river together, a lot of times the guys being beyond generous and giving me some of the best runs, guaranteeing a catch. Evenings talking about fishing, trying to figure out tying flies together, and shared stories of new areas and new catches. I was fortunate enough to have these people teach me, bring me along and introduce me to areas I thought I knew but got to see from a fresh perspective.
Over the past few years I've upgraded my gear, learned to tie my own flies, and continued to relish the days spent on the river. I've celebrated personal bests, explored new areas, and experienced the satisfaction of catching a fish on a fly I tied myself. Yet, amidst all the successes, what remains unchanged is the sense of calm and joy I feel standing in the mountains, with a creek flowing before me and a fly-fishing rod in hand. I will be honest some of my best days have been the days I haven’t caught a single fish, seen a single rise, but I’ve been out with some of my favourite people enjoying the mountains and slowing down.
My hope is that others can also find this sport like I did, maybe when they need it to reconnect with themselves or someone they love or even just with nature itself. And my biggest hope is that you remember that amidst the pursuit of impressive catches and perfect photos, the most cherished memories often stem from the smallest moments - the tiny minnow caught that made everyone laugh, or the one you scouted for what felt like hours just to be too excited and set the hook too fast. These are the moments that truly enrich our experiences and remind us of the joy found in the simplicity of being present in nature.
Comments