Visiting a river with regularity reveals how the water  is truly a world unto itself.

Going fishing means trying to catch fish. That part means focusing on the water. Of course, there are other parts. One must avoid streamside obstacles when walking or casting. Other things, like trees, rocks, or non-fish animals are difficult to ignore. But the fishing, especially if intermittent, demands a deliberate focus upon the water.

When you spend a lot of time on a particular river you start to allow yourself notice things. The obstacles become familiar. Avoiding them becomes second nature. So do the  trees and rocks. More importantly, so do the feeding lanes of fish. Structure, cover, and favorite lies make themselves clear. Sometimes this information is gathered by trial and error. You spook a fish every day for a week until you realize that there is a fish there. If you are coming back the next day, this is valuable information. You learn spots. You get to know fish.

Perhaps you even ascertain when a certain fish is in Spot A, and what time of day that same fish moves to Spot B.

For the better part of a year I fished a spring creek multiple times a week. I became very familiar with streamside obstacles, trees, and rocks. A river that I had fished intermittently became alive in ways that enriched my experience and amplified my ability to read the water. This led to more fish. I’ll even say that this led to more rewarding fish.

Some times that meant spooking a fish every day for a week until I would realize there was a fish there. Then I caught it. Other times, it meant calculating that Casting Position B and Presentation C were the ticket to fooling the fish that I had merely been spooking for a week before I actually was able to fish for it.

Fish like these were rewarding. Even a twelve inch brown trout’s significance measured much longer after a prolonged period of angling calculations. Acknowledging the whole river – its motions, its rhythms, its breaths – lead to fooling, playing, and landing a fish.

The most rewarding fish, and the fish I am the most fond of, are those who added a variable to the equation. Larger brown trout have the penchant for establishing one lie for daylight hours and another for the evening shift. I am not a salmonid expert. To me, it seems like dusk triggers this rotation. The light dims ever so subtly. The air cools a degree or two. The insects move. The frogs peep. It feels like twilight is right around the corner. Mature brown trout move from under vegetation or from deep, opaque pools.

I’d stumble into these fish. They weren’t in Spot B when I began fishing, but they were there when I was walking back to my car. It would happen night after night. Big trout were appearing from nowhere; materializing, as if they only existed once fireflies began to flash.

Certainly I had to have possessed some semblance of  observational skills to notice these trout. More important than  any personal skill was simply my presence. I saw the stream on Day One, Day Two, Day Four, and Day Five of the week. The next week was pretty similar. My angling-focused brain began to absorb more information, just by being  there. An ecological osmosis allowed me to realize that a fish was moving there rather than a fish was there.

Slowing down and practicing Fly Fishing Fundamentals Step 1, 2, and 3 will only get you so far. For those who have the luxury of putting in the time, the river comes alive. The bugs, the fish, and the water itself will reveal what is happening. The  organisms all move in harmony, with certain crescendos that prove advantageous. Those revelations make an enormous difference for your fly fishing. They may lead to more, bigger, or rewarding trout.

They also mean you are seeing, feeling, and experiencing a river over time. If you have experienced that, you know your  reward.