My wife and I both enjoy books. Too much, maybe. We’ve got large built-in shelves in our living room. My office is organized so that I am wrapped in bookshelves. There are two more extra sets of shelves in the spare bedroom. That is where my second-tier, rarely consulted fishing books live.
I headed up there to find an old Trout Unlimited magazine. When I pulled on the clump of back issues, a notebook came along with it. It was a black and white composition book. I knew exactly what it was: a fishing journal from 2001.
2001 was an eventful year. I graduated high school and started college. I worked at a fly shop. I had my first saltwater fishing experience. I took my girlfriend (now wife) fly fishing for the first time. And I documented a good portion of that year in this composition book.
5/26: “I spent a good 2 hours in one spot…. Nymphing is still beyond me. Nothing was hatching, spare a few midges that were invisible in the water.”
8/4: “Later on we tried a grass flat on the intercoastal waterway. I immediately caught an 18″ sea trout. We fished for a few more hours until we got freaked out by a huge boil It could have been a shark, or a manatee, we didn’t stick around to find out.”
11/17: “First day back from home since I started college, time to be with the family! No wait, time to go to Anita’s* and PA with Jeff!”
*Anita’s is a Mexican restaurant in Northern Virginia that features prominently in the journal (and my life in general).
The only thing that hit harder than nostalgia was cringe-inducing embarrassment. I hope that I don’t read Casting Across in 19 years and feel the way that I did paging through the composition book. Cheesy. Juvenile. The worst though? Attempts at literary flair. You’ll never see those quotes.
12/16: “We got our butts kicked by some very intelligent trout in the Savage.”
6/6: “The fish jumped and darted around, putting up a good fight, When I landed that, I was in awe of the fish and myself for catching it.”
7/21: “3:24 is very early. I don’t think one, no matter how often they fish, could get used to it.”
It is remarkable how a few words can bring back memories. I can picture relatively uneventful fishing trips as I read these entries. Random trips to my regular waters once blended together in my mind, get separated and isolated because of an anecdote about a fish or a lunch.
11/22: “I knew I would be using the not-released Orvis T3 865… I started casting and was amazed.”
7/14: “I caught a big brookie and snapped off a huge brown on a cress bug. Everyone else got the ‘ol polecat.”
11/17: “My 1st cast yielded a nice brown (16″). I piddled around, losing some flies and missing some fish. The day ended on a good note as I pulled out a 20+ ‘bow that I had to fight from under logs and rocks.”
The notes are a combination of logistics, victories, attempts at humor, and defeats. All in all, it reads like the nymphal form of Casting Across. The book also contains countless sophomoric shenanigans. (In case the statute of limitations is 20 years, I should probably leave them off the internet.)
Because of this website, I’ve chronicled the past 5-plus years of my fly fishing in excruciatingly minute detail. I can use the search feature to bring back memories. But beyond that, I only have my recollections and one specific year’s worth of notes. In hindsight, I wish I would have started journaling earlier and kept it going. Even a few random thoughts would elicit amazing insights. About fly fishing; but as I read my composition book, I realize I could have recorded so much more.
5/6: “I took Amanda up to Cunningham Falls, home of Big Hunting Creek. Now that’s special, taking your girlfriend to your favorite trout stream.”