Fly Fishing the Space Between Seasons


Space between the flight season

  When I have the ability, I like to transition between the seasons. This is the time of the waters of the mountains in the east of Tennessee and the West Abarachia Mountains in the west of North Carolina. It provides space for personal reflection and has the opportunity to let go and update. I have learned enough casting to prevent flies from distorting. At least most of the time. Sometimes, they will capture a flooded log, and I will swear to my son. I have a big day online. The adrenaline will pump water. I will fight. I really believe that there is catfish on the other end. When this happens, Noah always laughs. Listening is contagious and interesting. When I was really dramatic, he would do this until his abdomen pain was too much that he couldn’t continue, and then leaned his feet on the chair, hanging from the back of the ship, waiting for his next capture Essence 

I have never written articles about flying fishing, which may be because when I am not always patient when I am on the water. The catfish is. They wait, I firmly believe that they plan. Noah can match their patience, so they always have more luck than me. The two -foot catfish lingered in the dark swimming pool. When it jumped, Noah was five years old and bravely insisted on hard fighting. Its beauty was revealed in the cracks of the air. The glittering sunlight passed through the trees and hit the rainbow in the rainbow.

  Soon after hearing this story, another guide returned to the same place, linked and verified our claim again. However, in the sense of the old fish, the old fish also has other ideas, and it is free again. As far as we know, it has avoided human hands and is still there today. A typical fishing story, which is why we have established a close connection between us. Max, Noah and I always tell it every year before the new day. Whether we are in wading or in floating trip, it has become the common tradition of our crew.

  It didn’t even have an hour. When we drifted from the South Holston River in Tennesi, the outskirts of Bristol, this has become a popular saying on our boat. A good sign, because it means that the fish is biting. Focusing is that they are prevalent. All I can do is to laugh at Noah, knowing that I will hear again soon. He likes to keep scores. The boy did this during the competition: NA, laugh, repeat; just like the proud Pedi Ped now, call our boat from the water. In that pleasant distraction, the other bites, I slowly listened to the dual play of the boy and the happy P. I smirked my face, and I resulsed.

I am glad that our staff are together again. A year later, you are familiar with welcome. Life will never stop; there is no pause button, I think of the bite of each catfish to talk to our conversation on the boat. Max would ask his girlfriend to marry him a few days later, and I believe he would reflect when he tied the May flies. When I want my wife to marry me, I am his age and hope I know how to fly fish. I am happy to reflect on a floating journey on the river. Just like I was sure of him, this is the best decision I have ever made, proved to be a smiley boy sitting behind the boat. I hope that this time has passed the benefits and can only last longer.

  Noah has successfully hooked four catfish. He was convinced that he beaten his old man, and he changed the role from the fisherman to the designated "fish holder" of our crew. He proudly announced that Max and my quickly nodded to approve the title. , Especially for a eight -year -old child, he is now scattered by the turkey sandwiches hidden in Max. I thank you the greatest thanks. He will be a good father one day. 

On my casting arm, it was the red depiction mark of the sun rolled up from the sleeve in the morning. I was glad to be burned and sweated, but my face was emitted by the six miles of water that we had already covered. At the moment of these seasons spending on fishing space, I re -connected with the natural flow, reminding people to life may not be foreseeable. That’s why I am here today.

  The pleasure of small rapids was suddenly replaced by a static glass. The largest drop anchor. We have a listener. From the bottom of the cool tree, a peasant sat on a stool to rest and looked at us attentively. His old pickup stopped a few feet away. On the other hand, the hidden shy mother deer will be cautious in the heat at noon. As the sun rises to the higher head, I know that our time on the river is over.

You immediately know when to make a perfect actor lineup. The duration of splitting is a distant experience. You can observe yourself from a distance. Maybe standing patiently on the river bank of the farmer’s shadow tree, because the lines are hardly rolled on the water to the place you want to where you want Essence You always want to take a bite, but the popularity brought by the actor’s lineup can provide your own fun, because at that moment, you really let go.

I heard his praise and grateful, but don’t turn around, knowing that he must watch a fish attentive when we are silent now. Everything is calm and bright. From the place where I stood, it kept balanced, and the water exposed huge boulders, and it seemed that it could easily cut our small boat into half. We float above the overwhelming fortress.

  Max’s command broke the tranquility. The fish has only a few inches of muscles above the water, and all muscles are ready to fight. When we spar, I cut my fingers online and pulled it closer. The catfish immediately respected. Max re -prepares the net while Noah scan the water of the fish. In the end, I raised it enough so that the flies can be removed. It is now imprisoned, which is full of vitality, a vibrant spirit, with clear, healthy eyes and rainbow. Carefully, I introduced our valuable opponents to Noah. In his hands, the catfish calmed down when he whispered a friendly word, and then gently released the water disappeared to the fish to the water. Water. After the behavior was completed, it was time to move with the river again.

  With the eyes of the landing, Max asked me if I wanted to stop and then called it, but I was satisfied with the final gain. I feel patient again, restore, and my practice is completed. Noah hung his feet on the side of the ship again, staring at the fixed fixed rear flow at the place where we started. I realized that this has always been his advantage throughout our journey, and he has been letting go. Just like every catfish released today, the boy’s movement with the river was consistent, and I finally joined him. 

  When we drove home, sunset, even for a few hours, I still felt the river below me, and my legs and legs were not completely adjusted. The cycling of Piemont, which crosses the north Carolina, fell asleep. Tonight, after I took him to the room upstairs, I would drink from the Red Dicksi Cup, and then review the past day. I prefer cups. After fishing, it is more suitable for this occasion. Next year, I suspect that I can take my son upstairs. He must walk. After all, the season will change, and soon, the two of us will toast with those cups on another day of South Holston.

  Nate Goetz is a writer who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Over the past three years, he participated in the annual flying fishing journey with his son Noah and North Carolina’s Southern Clothing Store with his friend Max Beck. His works are regularly appeared in The Vintner Project.