Day 1- Spring Creek, PA

Maybe I should not be writing so soon after I am done fishing (I called it a day about two hours ago). I am not sure what kind of conclusions one can draw so soon after an experience. But, if there is one thing my break up has taught me: when something is not working, you don’t have to work on it, you can just stop doing whatever it is you are doing. Basically, if my contemplations have not matured, I will wait.

I decided that I would take a friend. I taught him to fish the way I learned how: steady movements between 10 and 1 o’clock, and release when you are ready to put your line down.

I got up at 6am. The last time I was up at 6am on a Saturday, I had not slept. I called my friend, and he was up. I picked him up at 645, just in time for the sun to rise. We drove to Spring Creek, put a fly on the rod and we started fishing just after 730 (we had to go to Walmart to get a fishing license).

The road had curved into a canyon, a hunting reserve (I felt like prey for a second down there). The water was perfectly clear, a little bit cold, especially when it flooded my rubber boots. I began to cast, slowly at first, trying to recover the rhythm, the feel of the fly line pushing my leader and tippet away from the rod and into the water. 10 o’clock, 1 o’clock (watch out for the tree behind you… there goes a fly), and again…

At the end of the day, I didn’t catch a single fish, I lost a fly in a tree (I knew this would happen) and my line got tangled only twice. Not too bad (last time I fished, I went through seven flies in four hours).

A cigarette (I know…) later, and I was in the car with my friend driving to Cracker Barrel for breakfast: I had my very first biscuit and gravy (one of the numerous things my ex-girlfriend said she’d do for me and didn’t) together with a traditional American breakfast.

I am not entirely sure what I learned, but in the end, I was just enjoying the company, being out on the water. I think I may do this when I wake up in the morning feeling like I miss her, as it is unavoidable. But today, I was out in the silent hills, alone with nature (and three other fishermen, so I guess not that alone, unless solitude with other people still counts as solitude). The stream washed away my worries, and they will come back, but the river told me: “come back when you need, I will wash away your burdens again, and again.”

Lessons learned:

1)      I really enjoy fly fishing

2)      An American breakfast is as good as it is unhealthy

3)      I had a really good start to my day.