I have spent the last few months going back over old journals or logs of past fishing exploits. Part of this process was to "mine" for possible story ideas gleaned from any "nuggets" written down among what others might see as "useless information". Of course none of this material may seem "useless" to an angler, especially a fly fisher.

Usual notes of a day spent on the water would include date; weather conditions; time of day; ongoing hatch (if any); types of flies used; what patterns worked or didn't; presentation or techniques used; equipment used, specifically weight of rod and line; river conditions including temperature and flow; productive "fishing spots" that likely could be favourite pools; and number of fish caught (and released) with the species and size duly noted.

But hidden away in this might be a reference to a particular incident of noteworthy importance. Like the beaver floating like a log down the same stretch as I was fishing, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

Or the snow storm on opening day that effectively shut down any action I'd hoped for. Besides limiting the number of fishermen on the water, the snow blanketed the surrounding ground deadening all sound. All of which added up to day on the river where the resulting stillness, quiet, and tranquility gave one the overall peace of mind often lost in a hectic everyday world.

Maybe it's the time that trout are rising to every fly, no matter the presentation or the pattern even remotely close to matching the hatch -- that is if there is a hatch of any kind.

Or it's one of those non-producing fish days, that no matter what you try nothing seems to work.Yet just being out on the river proves good enough, just standing in the middle of running water, taking in the sights and sounds of nature all around you. Even becoming a small part of that world. Through the repetitive and instinctive casting motion of your rod, plus your heightened awareness of the surroundings, you fall intoo a "natural rhythm" of it all. And, for what seems like just a fleeting moment, you actually are immersed into the environment, becoming one with Mother Nature.

Whatever it might be that is special or unique about a particular day's fishing, it's almost always about more than just the number of ish caught. Whether the memory of that certain day makes you laugh or cry, no matter how good or how bad it might have been, the fact you were there is what truly matters. Any way all of this has got me thinking. Time to add more to those special days. It has been too long since I put on the waders and cast out a line. Had to be at least the other day. So time to go fishing.

Mike!
Yet another good story! Reminds me of : The Recollections of a Fly-Fisher! At one with Mother Nature; Miss a weeks fishing; and we get withdrawal symptoms, although reading about it helps, especially on those cold winter nights.

So, keep-em-coming.