This time I wasn’t simply fishing. I found myself explaining why  I was doing what I was doing. Not how to cast. Not why a dry fly. Why. The reason why I was fishing. For someone who writes and talks about that very subject three times a week,  and who has been doing so for nearly six years, I found it surprisingly difficult in the moment.

He’s astute. So I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was asking such questions. Furthermore, he’s well aware there are bigger fish in more accessible locations. But I had driven him two hours away and lead him four miles into the woods for these fish. Smallish fish; and small fish manifesting a rare discerning palette. And I had just told him that I was about to scale a cliff and drop down into a cave to make an attempt at one of these picky, diminutive brook trout.

Again, I can’t blame him for asking the obvious question. My fly fishing has the tendency to dangerously veer towards the illogical.

The second time that I ever went fly fishing I spend nearly an hour trying to catch a fish that found a reverse-facing current in the river. A spillway and some old foundations created some extreme eddies. This 16-inch brown trout sat, nearly motionless, facing downstream. The fish had moxie, and I wanted to catch it to tell it so.

Try as I might, I couldn’t even find a way to get a fly in front of the trout. But I exhausted every fly and tactic I could think of. Since then, things haven’t gotten any better. For whatever psychological/psychotic reason I concoct little angling enigmas for myself. Big fish do occupy my thoughts. Days where I lose count of releases are desirable.  More often than not? I find myself thinking about that one fish or that one spot.

I’ve convinced myself that the genetic freak palominos are, in some ways, harder to catch because every predatory thing in their world  sees them like a neon beer sign. Tiny rising trout will get me fumbling for my nippers to quickly remove any streamer that I’ve previously committed to. Feeder creeks always – I mean always – hold more allure than the main stream. Each of these scenarios will derail an otherwise normal day of fishing.

Or, sometimes, I perseverate on the idea of a potential fish for decades.

I didn’t tell him all of this. I just explained that there is a little cave with a deep hole that is usually inaccessible. However, because of the lower water I might be able to squeeze down close enough to make a cast. The fish isn’t likely to be any bigger or better than the brook trout we had been catching, but it was a fun  challenge. It is a bit exploratory; somewhat adventurous.  The kind of thing that has me coming back to the same streams and the same fish and the same fishing over and over again.

Then he asked me what I would do if I did happen to hook something in such a precarious spot.

That, I elucidated, was something I planned on figuring out once it happened.