I am thankful for fly fishing.

I am thankful that it gives me an opportunity to slow down. Even when I’m driving hundreds of miles away and then running deep into the woods, I’m dialing back most of my mental processes. I can think deep thoughts and work through all manner of issues when I’m on the water. Or I can repeat the same lyrics to a random song over and over again for seven hours. I’m sure there are other ways I can accomplish these things, but I’m grateful fly fishing makes it happen.

I am thankful for the plethora of voices in fly fishing writing. Books were my first and most frequent angling tutors. Passing along this joy to others has been almost as fun as reading itself. In recent years, it has been a privilege and pleasure to be sought out to  read and review books; both by new writers and established figures in fly fishing.  I appreciate the words, and the men and women that wrote them.

I am thankful for a supportive wife. It would be inappropriate to say that she tolerates my fly fishing and Casting Across. She encourages it. Whether it be an occasional weekend away or a product-review photo shoot on the kitchen table, she  takes it in stride. I’m able to bounce ideas off of her, solicit constructive criticism from her, and  talk about the rarely riveting minutiae of fly fishing with her. And all of this is only a tiny fraction of why I’m thankful for her.

I am thankful for riverbanks. Catching fish or not, there is always something fascinating to find on the banks of the river. Bear tracks, old bottles, bright salamanders, and peculiar ferns are part of going fishing. Being watched by a fox has a qualitative value with an exchange rate equaling three or four fish. The splendor of flora and fauna is worth observing and, ideally,  savoring. From time to time the traces of humanity can induce a smile or some contemplation. These are moments I’m grateful for.

I am thankful to the God who created it all. It takes an unfathomable amount of faith to believe that the remarkably poignant experience of catching a wild trout is simply the result of  random chance on matter. I’m convinced that the one who rose from the dead was speaking the truth when He attested to the sovereign hand that brought the world into being, put people in it, provided a solution for our rebellious folly, and also saw fit to make brook trout beautiful. Much more could be said, but I’m most thankful to Him.

Happy Thanksgiving from Casting Across.