Roll casting: art meets beauty

My dear friend, Kevin Thomason put me on to The Ozark Fly Fisher Journal after a trip we made to the Ozarks trout fishing. What follows is a great clip on roll casting. Since today is my 63rd birthday, I posted this one for myself! Forgive my selfishness, but the fish and their surroundings are beyond terrific.

The gift of children, a gift to a child

All who work among adults would do well to remember this truth, both for the sake of the children and the adults.

"If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in."

--Rachel Carson

Dan's blasted fish!

In June 2005, my best buddy, Dan Hopkins and I ran in the Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska.  What an experience!

For some stupid reason we planned our trip so that the race came at the end of our week.  Bad move.  Not good to board an airplane back to Dallas the day after enduring 26 miles. 

Among the week's activities was a fishing trip.  We were after big salmon and we found them.  We flew into the back country, landed on the river and stepped from plane to boat for a half-day of fishing. 

Within half an hour I had landed a 26-pound fish.  I must say, I was feeling pretty good.  After about another 30 minutes of watching Dan try to catch something, I was beginning to feel sorry for him.  That is, until I watched him haul in the largest fish of the season to that point:  a 56-pound monster (pictured above--er, the fish is on the left!). 

I really was proud for him.  It was a thrill to watch! 

But, I must add, he keeps bringing up that blasted fish.  As a matter of fact, he sent me the picture again just last week.  I think he's afraid that I'll forget.  Not a chance.

Nice fish, Dan.  Real nice fish. 

Stuff I read--Part 2

Another word or two about my reading habits.

While the journals/magazine referenced the last two days don't cover all that I regularly thumb through, they do represent a few favorites.

Here's what's left of that short, varied list.

I've been reading Sports Illustrated since I was a kid. Great photography and interesting analysis across the sporting world.

I remember reading stories about horse racing and fencing when I was in junior high.
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Log Home Living caught my attention a few years back. I call this my "fantasy time" reading each month when it hits my mailbox! I settle back into my easy chair and pretend I'm designing a new home on some Colorado or Vermont hillside. You know, a place to go to simply get away from everything, except the quiet, the beauty and the trout! The thought of living in a log house just seems right to me.
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A couple of inner-city teens came to our door about 6 months ago. They were selling magazines as part of a scholarship program. I never know if these things are legit, but I've never met a kid trying to sell something door-to-door that I had the heart to turn away without at least a little conversation. That is especially true in this neighborhood after dark.

Long story short: I ended up with a subscription to Baseball Digest, a compact little journal I'd seen but never read.

Pretty cool little resource that I pass along each month to my fellow baseball addict, Keith Ackerman! Every time it arrives I think of those kids at my door.
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As a Lifetime Member of Trout Unlimited, the mailing address on the monthly magazine reads "1/2050" as the year my subscription expires. I hope they are right about the date of my predicted passage!

This is a truly beautiful little journal. Great articles about water and fishing conservation, as well as trout fishing technique.

I don't let a single issue of Trout Unlimited to go unread.
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Of course, I read other publications--D Magazine, Texas Monthly and The Dallas Business Journal come to mind. But, what I've listed here are a few of my favotires.
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The Zen of fly fishing

Something happens when I stand beside or, better, in a stream. The farther away from civilization the better, although I've had the experience on streams rolling through towns and cities!

The river, the stream, the surroundings, the relative quiet, the imposed and delightful silence, the pesky fish, the wonderful fatigue of simply walking a stream for several hours--all combine to drive home the truth that all of us are a part of the magnificent, mysterious whole.

Why do we find it so hard to focus, to reflect, to retreat for the sake of renewal, but even more for understanding? It is almost as if we resist the places where understanding draws near because we know that life, as we normally live it, remains cut off from deeper reality that would help make sense of every ordinary, routine challenge or problem.

To put it simply: I've gone fishing for three days!

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Time to retreat

Vacation has been a long time coming this year. No time away in the summer--just too much going on and too much uncertainty caught me in several traps of confusion about my schedule.

Ever been there?

But, I'm holding out hope for November.

My good friend, James Walters has offered up his cabin in Wells River, Vermont. James teaches at Boston University. Brilliant scholar working in the early Christian era to understand the social dynamics of the period.

James is also a skilled urban practitioner on several levels. While at Heartbeat, James helped create the Personal and Community Empowerment (PACE) materials that we are using to train leaders and organize community groups in several inner-city neighborhoods here in Dallas.

I love James. Wish I could find more ways to spend time with him.

The thought of his cabin leads me to share what's below from the latest Heron Dance email message I received on Friday.

Enjoy!

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THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace

Comes dropping slow.

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the Linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep hear’s core.

—W.B. Yeats, 1890

Day Dreams. . .Great Memories

If I don't manage to get to a river at least once every 12 to 15 months, I feel as if I am cheating myself out of the kind of renewal and pure joy that can fuel my soul for an entire year of hard work in the city.

When I was a college student living in central Arkansas, I spent lots of time wading the Little Red River fishing for Rainbow Trout.

I remember almost always packing my skillet for a meal on the riverbank.

Nothing tastes better than fresh trout cooked up over a camp fire out in the woods after a few hours of "hard work" fishing up and down a section of fast-flowing water. I can still taste those meals!

It was always great being with a buddy or family fishing that special stretch of stream. We had lots of fun and plenty of laughs!

But, I also found it very satisfying being there alone in the beauty. The leaves, the water, the breeze and the challenge of the pesky Rainbows--it all added up to great times that I'll never forget. Fall days on the river were particularly satisfying.

I expect those memories, as much as anything else, continue to drive me toward rivers in other parts of the country.

There's nothing like fly fishing for trout in a swift river.

When you day dream, what fills your mind and heart?