We were created to rest. Five days of vocational work followed by two days of other work is still seven days of work. Scripture gives a divinely ordained reason to rest. Unsurprisingly, secular biologists and psychologists agree. We have periods of time for this, and periods for that. The same applies in fly fishing. For me, October 15th is the end of the season.

So, I rest. But I still fish.

Even though I live in Massachusetts, I consider the mountain streams of New Hampshire my home water. There are plenty of trout I can and do pursue much closer to home. However, the tumbling rivers deep in the forests  of the Granite State are where I feel the most connected in New England. And the vast majority close to fishing on October 15th.

There are still plenty of options for trout in New Hampshire and the adjacent states  on the 16th of October. And you’ll find me on the waters that are open to fishing throughout the winter. I don’t stop fly fishing. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t mark the end of the season. I take the opportunity to rest.

For years I lived among spring creeks in Pennsylvania. Fly fishing was a year-round activity. Aside from voluntarily staying away for a month or so during the spawn, my wading boots never had a chance to dry out. (Even then, I’d fish rainbow streams in the fall.) That mentality is a far cry from the way most anglers’ think about fishing today, and would have certainly been foreign to those who fished even a few generations ago. It had it’s perks. But I didn’t rest.

Perhaps fishing seasonally-regulated water elicited my convictions. Maybe it is the fact that I’m a little older with a few more important things going on then I did when I was in my 20’s. It could be both providentially coming together to give me some perspective on fly fishing and the more important things.

Resting at the end of a season allows me to even see the important things in fly fishing. The final trips into the New Hampshire wilderness are special. The brook trout give the leaves’ colors a run for their money. Reflections from the hot, dense summer and the wet, fresh spring come readily. Anticipation for next year is tempered by the fact that the fish will inevitably benefit from my and other anglers’ absence.

There is also something to be said for partaking in a rite passed through by the fly fishers who have come before. Closing day meant a lot more when there weren’t  options. They rested because they had to. Ducks, trapping, and fly tying weren’t diversions; this was the season for those things. They weren’t encroaching on fishing because there was no fishing to be had. None, that is, until there was enough ice to safely walk upon. Reading sporting classics makes more sense when I do more of what they did. They savored their seasonal fishing because of their rest. I’ve gladly taken a page or two from those books.

I’ve gotten to the point where I look forward to the end of the season. October 15th isn’t a restriction: it is liberating. I change what I do, including where I fish. In a lot of ways I rest. Even in my recreation, closing day makes me live according to how I was made.