The best heroes are flawed. The simplest explanation for this is that we can identified with such a person. Sure, there are plenty of deep literary nuances that a reader with an analytical mind can probe and ponder while reading about protagonists with obvious shortcomings. That is fine. For most of us, we read ourselves into the main character. We want to be the hero. And we know that we are flawed.

Any fly fishing story worth its ink has a hero. The dragons of these tales usually aren’t fish. The journeys are hardly comparable to a trip to Mordor. But there is still a person, and it is through those eyes we see places and ears we hear words with which we can relate. Norman Maclean, Nick Adams, and even the non-fictitious John Gierach spirit us away to rivers where we’ve never been.

The thing is, they might be rivers where we’ve never been; but we can be there. That means the heroes of fly fishing stories are not that different than you and me. Their exploits, while remarkable, are usually only the products of circumstance and observation. Because the most memorable stories containing the most heroic anglers aren’t just about big fish.

A lot of people can catch big fish. But only a select few can relay the events in a manner that generates interest, let alone emotion. The hunter who claims his prize logically, simply, and without trial is pursuing game in a way that leaves the whole enterprise as mathematical. Food is on the table. Pictures are posted for all to see. The extent of the story is “I did.” There is no drama.  It is all quite formulaic. Math problems never have heroes.

The same big fish from the same river will always make for a better story when there are challenges. Whether it is nature or self or something more existential, the struggle is what makes the story and what defines the hero. The conflict doesn’t need to be of Biblical proportions, though. Unavoidable rockslides and killer river otters seeking to gash a man’s waders have pulp value. What really resonates is a driving rain, a previous trip marked by failure, or a mind preoccupied with significant matters far from the water. For this reason, that big fish makes for a good story even when it isn’t caught.

So a good fishing story featuring a relatable hero rarely finds its way to the cinema screen. Most of them rarely end up on paper. All of us have a few heroic moments on the water, here and there.  Only a select few can aggregate enough of them finished off with sufficient intrigue to warrant publication.

That is okay.

The tavern on the outskirts of the deep, dark woods was also filled with talk of common folks’ exploits against lesser monsters. Once in a while, a true dragon slayer would stumble in. But just passing through. What really kept the fires burning and the drink flowing late into the night was heroic tales about you and about me.