The Will to Believe

Bill over at Muskoka Outdoors wonders if fishermen are too gullible when it comes to rumors about hotspots and "undiscovered waters" that give up fish by the bucketload. My answer offhand was yes. We--most certainly, I--can alter a perfectly reasonable plan for a day on the water, or abruptly drop other responsibilites, to chase down the whispiest of leads about some new place, or just some place other than where we had thought to go. Never mind what we've learned about familiar waters or what has brought us success in the past. The grass is greener, or rather, the fish are hungrier, and bigger, somewhere else. All we have to do is show up.

On one hand, this is comical, a simple example of how easily human beings can be manipulated by the promise of a quick reward. But on another level this behavior reveals a visonary streak. Often, random nuggets of information inspire not just a general hope of success, but fabulations of a sweet hereafter in which our triumphs play out in rich detail. We struggle to hold on to the rod against the force a strike, feel our hands tremble as a monstrous trout slides toward the net, or see a riffle glimmering with twilight as mayfly spinners drift by in mats. Even if we've never seen the place where we expect these events to happen, or if we've never experienced anything remotely like them in a place we know well. In fishermens' imaginations, one mustard seed of hope can--and reliably will--grow into a mighty tree of expectation.

Case in point. A week ago I was in Rusty Gates' flyshop in Grayling buying a new drying patch for my vest. I hadn't yet decided where I would fish that day, and after Rusty rang up my purchase, I asked him how the fishing had been the day before on the mainstream.

All he said was "glorious." So naturally, I took that to mean that the hendrickson hatch had been heavy and the fish had fed with abandon. If you read my report about the opening weekend trip, you know that doesn't at all describe my experience fishing the mainstream on Sunday. Was the glory revealed only to those fishing the previous day?

That would depend on what Rusty meant by "glorious." Where I, coming off Saturday's fish-poor outing, understood it to mean catching epic quantities of fish, he may well have meant that a long awaited Opening Day had passed in brilliant sunlight and shirtsleeve temperatures with a few fish caught along the way. That certainly qualifies as a glorious moment in an angler's life.

Quite often, as in Bill's case, the hot tip leads to lukewarm action. I've been there plenty of times myself. It's disappointing, but I would never want to stop letting my imagination play with the possibilities of new water or perfect timing. Anticipation is one of fishing's great pleasures, and the belief that out there somewhere is the spot that will give you the day, maybe the fish, of a lifetime, can revive a fisherman after a tough day. But like other kinds of beliefs, this one sets its adherents up for disappointment and confusion when framed in narrow, conventional, and literal terms. A generous understanding of what counts as a great spot, or a great catch, insures many more days of fishing in glory.
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I'll be chasing glory tomorrow on daytrip to Mio. Report to follow.