Four years ago I set out to write about fly fishing. I did want to write about fish. You can’t really write about fly fishing without giving your two cents  on how to hook a trout every now and again. It establishes credibility. It is also pretty simple. Even more than the fish themselves, I wanted to write about the culture of fly fishing. It was more interesting, and maybe more of a challenge, to try to explain how the whole of the fly fishing experience is absolutely greater than the sum of its parts.

When I started, the focal point of the culture was things. Rods, reels, and flies – the tangible stuff that any fly fisher can relate to.   As I sought to do real research and get unique information for my articles, I discovered that the real story was people.

Because even though a fly rod might resonate with you, a person is literally relatable.

When the average angler ties on a fly, casts a rod, and goes to bed at a lodge, he or she is often enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labor. And making your living in fly fishing is a labor of love. It isn’t easy.  The guides and fly shop owners – the successful ones who endure – wake up early and go to bed late. Entrepreneurs chase their dreams more often than they get to chase fish. Life is fly fishing and life can be fun, but that means life is work.

Getting to know so many men and women “in the industry” has been one of the highlights of these last four years. By and large, it is an incredibly down-to-earth community. Of course there are exceptions: but they’re just that – exceptions. Often there is authority without pretension. Nearly everyone has at least a minute for you. Most have and give much, much more.

Perhaps the reason for this approachability is the common passion. Everyone shares the experience of chasing after fish using one very specific set of rules.   That particular experience  of fly fishing is really only shared by a small percentage of the population. It links the professionals and the hobbyists, the intense and the casual, and even the freshwater and the saltwater. Being at the mercy of fish seems to level the field. And being genuine matters more than being impressive.

Still, I’m impressed by so many professionals I’ve come to know in fly fishing.

I’ve come to know countless small business owners, corporate reps, fly tyers, event promoters, conservationists, podcasters, and other outdoor writers. Conversations and interactions have infused what I do with real character. Articles that feature the people of fly fishing are relatable. I see the stats: people respond. More than that, I know how much I enjoy the process from start to fishing. So, thank you.

Thank you to all the people who have been a part of Casting Across thus far.

Thank you for the encouragement.

Thank you for sharing what you do with me, and for sharing what I do with more people than I could ever reach on my own.

Thank you for the time out of your busy schedule.

Thank you for your hard work, and for what that means to so many who just want to get  outside and pursue some fish.

Thank you for letting me tell your story.