I went to where I fished. But I didn’t fish.

Recently I spent a long weekend in Virginia. I was in the mountains. I was in the hollows. I was on the Shenandoah and the Potomac Rivers. However, I didn’t cast a single fly. I hiked, ate, toured, and drove across some of my most familiar parts of the world. The routes and destinations were virtually identical, but the intention was completely different than fly fishing.

Would I like to have fished? Absolutely.

Do I regret not fishing? Not a bit.

Everything has a time and place. And being a well-rounded person, even a well-rounded angler, means being outside with a diversity of interests and purposes. But to see it, you have to actually do it.

More and more I find myself doing just that. I’m content to simply walk in the the places where I would usually have fly rod in hand. It isn’t for a lack of interest in fishing or the fish. I pay attention to the land, to the trees, to the birds. I look up more than I look down. I notice things I rarely see when I’m oriented on a narrow task like prospecting or presenting.

There are people, too. If conversation isn’t your thing, you might be more willing to consider the people that were there. History is everywhere. The lives lived and events that transpired in some of our local haunts are truly fascinating. And, if you’re up for some socialization, there are some downright interesting people who will talk to you about it all.

All of it – the history, the local cuisine, the bigger picture of nature – serves to bring some perspective. Fly fishing is a piece. It isn’t the entire puzzle. It might be a big piece. It might be central and pivotal. It can’t be the whole thing, though. And a puzzle piece is serving its ultimate purpose when it is firmly held by all the pieces around it. The image is complete when the essential pieces are fitted together with every other piece.

I encourage you to head to the woods for no  other reason than heading there. See the other side of the river. Get far enough away from the water that you can’t even hear it. Go into the small towns that skirt the edges of wild places to spend time, not just gas money. See your trout stream through the eyes of the men and women who drive over it every day. See your trout stream through the eyes of the men and women who crossed it 50 or 200 years ago. See it as part of a social and ecological system.

Most importantly, see how you might fit into it all. Your value – your puzzle piece might transcend a rod, some line, and a few well-placed flies.