I stood waist deep in the cool mountain water as it swept past me. The clouds above me were rolling in and darkening the valley that the little river ran through. Lightning had not been seen nor thunder heard yet, but I kept glancing at the sky as I tried to tie on the small fly. The water, cold and sharp, washed around me; I stood there waiting for the thunder to start and the rain to come.
I was almost to the large pool where I always ended my fishing trips on this little stream. As quickly as I could, without disturbing the fish, I waded towards the pool. Today had gone by too fast. My excursion had been a spur of the moment decision to try and lift me out of the troubles in life I was going through. I had just enough time to grab my gear and fill my truck up with gas and race out to the river. There was another fishing enthusiast already working the spot where I usually started my river adventures. I drove further up the river and had to settle on a pullout spot beside the road. The path down to the river was hard and made my waders stretch and groan as I quickly tried to maneuver myself to the river.
I had fished for a couple of hours and caught a few less than my usual. The fishing today seemed harder than before. My bad habits of the wrong casting form as well as my concentration seemed to be off today. The more I concentrated on my life, the less fishing I got done. I came to the water to resolve what was going on inside of me and had instead only stirred it up. My sanctuary of the river had turned into a battleground of emotions and decisions floating in a boiling soup around me.
The water seemed to betray me. The shallow eddies and riffles I had once easily crossed seemed to have grown and the rocks and mud felt as if they were grabbing at my boots and keeping them lodged to the bottom. The rain, just starting to come down, was a soft sprinkle that dimpled the surface in a scattered pattern. I kept my rod low to the water and trudged on, thinking of the fires burning in my mind.
I finally reached the pool where I knew I could try and redeem the time I had spent on the river today. The rain was starting to come down faster now. My little elk hair caddis dry fly floated down on top of the water as raindrops bombarded it. I waited patiently, watching the fly glide down the slow moving waters that hid the end result of my pursuits. The agonies of my various situations were starting to get to me. Out of frustration, I quickly sent the fly whirling back and forth through the air in an attempt to false cast the fly and my problems right out of the air.
A sudden lightning bolt sent shivers up my spine. I quickly lowered my rod. I tried to strip in my line as the thunder reverberated through the valley. In my haste to exit the water, my line somehow got tangled up. It was going to take more than a quick fix. Once I reached the bank and sat down on a large rock that presented itself, I started to try to untangle the knot. On cue with the lightning, the rain began to come down in earnest, as it naturally does in the mountains in torrents. As rain now ran down my hat and fell to the water, I worked on the knot. It was more than a knot gone horribly wrong, or a knot caused by the wind. It was a family of little knots that seemed to multiply and congregate in one spot. It was going to take more than a few minutes to resolve the knot. This knot, and the one in my mind, needed to be worked on and untangled slowly and I planned on untangling them before I ventured out to the river again.
Randy Davis is a member of the local Trout Unlimited Club. When not fishing, he enjoys spending time in the outdoors as well as writing about those experiences. Randy is currently working on finishing a degree in Creative Writing. He can be reached at mindfulnessincortez@yahoo.com.