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>>A Passion for Fly Fishing by Bev Wilson

“To go fishing is the chance of washing one’s soul with pure air, with the rush of the brook, or with the shimmer of the sun on blue water.”
~ Herbert Hoover, devoted angler and thirty-first President of the United States.

My sentiments exactly. How my soul craves a good wash about now! I thirst to get my waders wet in a cool stream and yearn to cast a fly to a zealous fish.

My passion for fly fishing started a couple of years ago. I knew about the sport, minimally, through my uncle, Ed Sonnenberg, who’s been an avid fly angler most of his life. In his family room, decorated much like a northern lodge sits his fly tying table, and above it, his collection of fly fishing reels. I knew that his love of fly fishing brought him to the river as often as he could be there, many times leaving his home in complete darkness to arrive before the morning hatch.

Being a man who enjoys his solitude, especially on the river, I rarely get to see him do what he loves so much. He probably doesn’t realize how his face lights up when he talks about his latest adventure on the river. Seeing that fire in him helped my interest in fly fishing.

The next nudge I got towards fly fishing was from watching my good friend, Connie Neal, as she cast a delicate fly towards a rise on the Au Sable River one warm summer day. This style of fishing looked so graceful to me and I had never observed my friend so at peace as when she was on that river fly fishing. The absolute concentration in her face and body language told me this was a sport that required all the senses. At that very moment, her troubles were behind her and she was totally engaged in the art of fly fishing. Before I knew it, she handed me an extra rod and began explaining how to cast it properly. In her gentle way, she encouraged me and cheered me on when I cast a nice tight loop towards the rapid water. Because of the time she took that day and the enthusiasm she relayed to me, I fell in love with fly fishing.

And, as most new loves begin, so did this one...with an obsession. I couldn’t wait to get going, so my next step was to get outfitted. A simple, fairly inexpensive 6 wt. fly rod and reel combo from Cabela's, a few necessary tools, a vest, and a pair a waders is all it took to get me started. I also read a few books and watched a few videos about the sport. Someone even bought me the book “Fly Fishing for Dummies,” which, in spite of its insulting name, is a great source on the fundamentals of fly fishing, perfect for a beginner like me.

My first trip was to the Au Sable River, a notable trout fishery, where I would begin to practice my new hobby. I brought my boys along who had fly rods of their own and who seemed to be born with the gift to fly fish. Within eyesight of each other, I struggled to catch a fish, while they caught them with ease, it seemed. As usual, I was trying too hard, the downfall of a perfectionist, and was getting discouraged that I just couldn’t get it right. Maybe it’s the stubborn German blood in me that wouldn’t let me give up.

What I did learn that weekend was that I love being on the river. Rivers have chosen some of the most pristine places on earth to dwell, charming me with their breathtaking images. I relish the sound of the water as it trickles around a boulder, providing me with music of serenity. I enjoy the feel of the river pressure as it holds my waders tight against my legs showing off its muscles. I adore being smack-dab in the fish’s environment, and catching glimpses of them swim right in front of me. Fly fishing offers solitude, perfect for a good soul cleansing. To be alone with my thoughts in a place so beautiful allows me to come to terms with my situations in life and to face them with honesty and truth.

The real bonus is that delightful moment when I offer a perfect cast to a waiting fish who slurps my imitation fly over the real thing. My heart leaps with joy as I try to remember all that I’ve read and learned from my mentors. Keep my rod high. Take up the slack line. Set the hook. Let it run. Keep my cool. Let the rod do the work. Play the fish. Or, as my oldest son would tell me, “Mom, don’t think so much, just do it. Have fun.” He’s right...this is fun!

There are others who’ve fueled my passion for fly fishing, some I don’t even know but have only watched from afar. I will never get to meet them all, for I wouldn’t want to interrupt their alone time on the river. But, I am grateful to them for their small part in helping me find something I love to do.

So, as soon as I can, I will head to the river, fly rod in hand, and stand at the water’s edge to scout for a good place to fish. I’ll step into the cool waters and feel the rhythmic cast of my fly line and, as all lovers do, I’ll get lost in my new found passion.