...i'm doing science and i'm still alive...
Last weekend I had my first ever fly fishing lesson. I suppose this would add to my list of old man inclinations, such as fountain pens, rangefinders, cuff links, and bow ties you actually tie in a knot.
The whole fly fishing bug started after I read Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It, about fifteen years ago. It's part science, part religion, and all about the perfect cast. But, as you'd imagine, there's not much fly fishing to be had in the 'burbs so the idea had to hibernate.
Until I moved to Portland, which is full of places designed to be fished. But, again, I never got around to it with other things like snowboarding and dancing getting in the way.
But now I'm in England and the opportunity has finally been realised, as part of a Christmas present.
Basically, it was everything I'd expected it to be. There is a science and a rhythm, and when you get it right it's closer to ten than two and the hook whizzes past your head and you hope you don't pierce anything that shouldn't be pierced.
It's a martial art. Against fish.
The whole fly fishing bug started after I read Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It, about fifteen years ago. It's part science, part religion, and all about the perfect cast. But, as you'd imagine, there's not much fly fishing to be had in the 'burbs so the idea had to hibernate.
Until I moved to Portland, which is full of places designed to be fished. But, again, I never got around to it with other things like snowboarding and dancing getting in the way.
But now I'm in England and the opportunity has finally been realised, as part of a Christmas present.
Basically, it was everything I'd expected it to be. There is a science and a rhythm, and when you get it right it's closer to ten than two and the hook whizzes past your head and you hope you don't pierce anything that shouldn't be pierced.
It's a martial art. Against fish.