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Manual de Lanzado Falsecast
Monday: Paul Arden
Tuesday 19 February, 2013
This past winter I have spent a lot of time on the river alone. Each of the trips to the cold ice filled flows teaches me a little something about life. I have realized something that others have pointed out to me I am slow. I enjoy to take my time to get ready, my rituals before I fish. Each trip starts with deep breaths, a long slow and crucial step for me to forget the life I have just left and begin to focus on the fish. Then I have to stand, walk, and stretch, looking around at what flowers may be blooming (match to the hatch) and checking for wildlife and sign to be more aware of the local conditions and environment. I will set all my gear out on a seat where it is out of the elements, but easy to reach. I will shuffle the keys from pocket to pocket, attentively keeping them from being locked in the vehicle, but obsessively checking on their location again and again. I will lean against a tree or the truck and stare out over the river looking for that tell tale sign of swallows swooping rising mayflies. A small sip from my flask, then I turn back to my gear. I will put on waders, right boot first, because the superstition of my old unit was always left first, and I want to leave the military life in the past. I get my lanyard, put boxes in pockets, then string up my rod and pull my camera out of the case. Then I check for the keys again before shutting the doors. I don't tie on a fly until I'm at the water and always stop first to look for rises, bugs, or any movement before stepping to the bank. And then, if I'm with someone else, I wait to see where they are going before making my own way down to the edge. It is slow but when I start like that I seem to get more fulfilment out of a trip. I'm sure if I threw stuff on and dashed to the river I would still have a typical stellar day, but I don't want to race through life, so why would I race to fish? Like I said, I'm slow!
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