Fishing is more than fish; it is the vitalizing lure to outdoor life.
Anglers have a way of romanticizing their battles with fish.
Far away Tongariro! Green - white thundering Athabasca river of New Zealand! I vowed I would come again down across the Pacific to fish in the swift cold waters of this most beautiful and famous of trout streams. It is something to have striven. It is much to have kept your word.
Fishing, by its very nature, nourishes the imagination, feeding it with a potent fuel of hope and desire.
Living at a beach, near a river mouth, taught him the impotence of impatience at events moving at nature's pace.
Millions of Americans own dogs, because they are good-natured, simple, and easily amused. I am referring here to the Americans. The dogs are not exactly Mensa members either, but they definitely make better pets than tropical fish.
Does a little fish, swimming though the net's eye, suffer from inferiority complex?
Death is like a fisherman, who, having caught a fish in his net, leaves it in the water for a time; the fish continues to swim about, but all the while the net is round it, and the fisherman will snatch it out in his own good time.
If all the theories were correct, there wouldn't be a fish left in all of our lakes and rivers and streams.
During my addled career as a trout fisherman I have gone on a lot of wild-goose chases, and I ruefully expect to go on a lot more before I hang up my waders
Wherever we go in the world we find other men speaking the same language, planning the same plans, dreaming the same dreams. And one of the big four - brownie, or brookie, cutthroat or rainbow - is the cause of it all
The dream is everything in the sport of fishing. You dream with every cast of your fly that the shadowy form will finally rise to your fly. You dream as you drop off to sleep at night about the lunker that got loose just as you were about to net it.
Fish slowly and thoroughly. Haste never pays dividends. Don't whip the stream to a froth. Make fewer cast, make them to places which count an fish each cast out instead of lifting it prematurely
Use the longest leader you can handle. Usually you can handle one much longer than you imagine. Remember that the purpose of the leader is to conceal artificiality. If you believe a leader is at all necessary then you must admit that the longer the leader the better chances you have for success
Make all approaches to the stream with care and caution. Remember that once you are seen you are a great disadvantage if not completely defeated
As far as I can ascertain the reasons for missing a rising fish come from faulty reactions. When we miss a fish we are either too fast or too slow
I learned to look up suddenly from a hatch or feeding frenzy and find myself momentarily removed from solid earth. I go fishing not to find myself but to lose myself
Fishing from a boat seems like dilettante bullshit - like hunting wild boar with a can of spray paint from the safety of a pick-up truck
Flyfishing does have its social aspects - on some of our crowded trout streams it can get too social - but esentially it's a solitary, contemplative sport. People are left alone with themselves in beautiful surroundings to try to accomplish something that seems to have genuine value.
A man ... needs to get out in the open air and sweat and blow off the stink.
The creatures with whom we share the planet and whom, in our arrogance, we wrongly patronize for being lesser forms, they are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the Earth.
...in rebellion against the typical British-type dry flies, I created the Wulff series.
It is you and clean, flowing water. It is you, inquisitive, in a wild world that is older than man, seeking greater understanding and finding not only an endless interest but a tranquility that comes, most of the time, to all nature?s wild creatures.
An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life. A swirl of water and a 'cloop!' and the May-fly was visible no more
I told a lie the other day. I said that I'd caught a 'bunch' of trout. What I should have said is that I caught a little trout that I named Bunch. There, I?ve confessed and now I feel much better.
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