Posts Tagged ‘river’


We all have days in our lives that are unforgettable. Yes, some are ones that we wish never to remember, but the story I have today is quite to the contrary.

Its evening on the North Fork of the White River, the river is warmly lit by the receding sun. I am fishing with my brother and my father, two men I love and respect. What could be better, we had caught some fish, nothing great but we were together; anymore an accomplishment in itself. I was anxiously awaiting the next riffle, a spot that historically holds some big fish. I was too impatient to wait so I began fishing as we drifted down. I soon hooked up with a brown. Landing it, I turned the boat around for another shot at the same spot the preivous fish came from. I ended up landing another, and another at the same time as my Dad landed one. Great spot! “I’ve never caught this many fish out of this spot”, I said.

I was pleased with the day, I had just landed half a dozen fish in one spot. Well, I got greedy and wanted to catch more. I knew there had to be a bigger one in there. I just knew it. The line fed from the my hand, the line resting on the surface, the size #8 Pat’s Stonelfy bouncing along the river rock. The trout, as if on que takes the fly, the indicator shooting upstream. This was a fish. “Big Fish”, I said! I knew from the initial headshake and flash, this wass no average Brown. 

I fought the fish in the current, he was relentless. I could not turn him for many minutes, even with the SAGE six weight I was using. He began esing into the shallows. I could see his thick shoulders. Nice fish. My brother and my Dad watched as I played the fish, not know when he would give up. WHen he finally did, my father was there with the net. Swoosh! The net did its job. The fish flopping in the net like a beached whale. WHOAA! This fish that “flopped like a whale” according to me, was 23″ with a big hooked jaw. What an impressive male Brown Trout. I got on my knees in the water, holding the fish in the shallows, took some photos, and then began the reviving process. He was a strong fish, not very long and his tale was pulsating, ready to swim away. He was beautiful, something to remember. He was the chief of the hole, he was the boss. He slowly slipped from my hands, gliding along the bottom. I shook my Dad’s hand, he was proud. No one was more proud than myself. My best fish, with my best friends. Awesome.

I clipped the fly off my line, took the indicator off, and reeled my line in. I was done, for the day that is. Nothing could compare. I was not that greedy to try and get a bigger one. I knew God had truly blessed me, the fish was mine for a moment, but even the fish deserves to have his glory.

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photo by Shawn Taylor

photo by Shawn Taylor

Oh yes, the glories of fly fishing. Without even catching fish, it is an amazing art and past time. But everyone wants to get more than an artistic feeling when they fish. So…what do I do? I combine the two. Art/catching fish. Here is how it goes.

I wake up, sip some coffee, and enjoy the beautiful sunset. I wade the river, feel the water rush along my legs, I watch the heron fish, I enjoy the moment. I cast my line, watch the indicator change course, I feel the trout’s every movement, it makes me smile. I look at the colors, the spots, the eye, it is beautiful. I feel the shake of its tale, the fin slide thru my hand, once again the fish is were it belongs. I smile once again, the day is young, I have many more moments of beauty ahead.

 written by Matthew Taylor

“One of life’s quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly becoming the author of something beautiful, even if it is only a floating ash.”   – Norman Maclean

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