Like me, you probably know the Henry David Thoreau quote from Waldon Pond or perhaps some other article or book he has written. However, this is simply not the case. As it turns out, this hardy quote was at some point ascribed to Thoreau—apparently without his permission or notice.

According to the Thoreau Institute—yes, the man has an Institute—the quote comes from a journal entry of his where he discusses fishing. While his writing is close to the quote, it falls short of a match. It is one of those truisms, I suppose. I think we have all heard it and taken it as truth. But that’s not what we are after here.

Who cares who said the thing anyway? What matters is what the quote means. I suppose there is a degree of subjectivity to the message. We go fishing to catch fish. Right? Not for me. I would imagine the commercial fisherman might go to catch fish, but when I think about it, it seems he is only fishing to sell fish, to provide for his family. It’s not really fish he is after. But stability, commerce, trade, provision.

Then I look at man fishing to eat, searching for food. Well, it’s not really fish he is after, either. No, as I ponder, it seems he is after a full belly, a meal, and sustenance for himself and his family. This is a man fishing for need.

Most of us, though, don’t fish out of need. We fish because we want to, because we desire to. We go to the woods…. to the river. And it seems most men will go there for fish. Or at least so they think. When really it is something more we are after.

Why I Fish

Not to rehash an older post here; I started fishing at a young age. As best as I can remember, it was probably around ten-ish. My dad loved to fish off the jetties. We would go on the weekend sometimes. Early in the morning. Toss our lines out into the waves, relax, and eat our mayo and bologna sandwiches. I never really enjoyed the experience. I had fun climbing on rocks and exploring. But I never really go the fishing part. Seemed odd to me. It takes a few decades to get it, though.

I can still smell the salt in the air. I can hear the waves crash on the rocks. The large ships coming into port. The seagulls squawking about. I suppose it wasn’t fish he was after, either.

So, I got older and discovered that I didn’t like fishing. My days were filled with other interests, and I forgot about fishing altogether. It wasn’t until grad school, in my mid-20s, that a friend of mine invited me on a fishing trip. I agreed to go, not for the fish, mind you, but for the promise of fresh air, a relaxing cabin in the woods, and some time to relax, write, read, and drink a glass or two of old whisky and smoke a few fine cigars.

Now, I decided to give it a go. Fly fishing looked pretty cool in the movies, so why not? I bought a pair of waders and borrowed my buddy’s fly rod. The first time stepping into tailwater is a wonderful experience. You are no longer watching a river, but you are now part of it. What was once a thing apart from you is now a thing with you. The clean cool air rushing by you, the water flowing through your legs. You are no longer an observer of nature; you are in nature.

On that first day, I waded out into some of the best fly-fishing waters in the world, found my footing, and cast my line out into blueish-green water. I loved it. This was a far different experience than jetty rocks and bologna sandwiches. This was ethereal, magical, majestic, spiritual, religious event. I was hooked. And then I felt it. The tug of a fish for the first time. Oh, do trout love to fight?! There is no thrill of light trout snagging your line. It was a big one, a nice-sized brown trout. My friend helped me land the fish.

That was it. I was an angler from then on out. A fly-fisherman. Now, I get out to the river four to eight times a year. Sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, and other times with my family. I go to this river to fish, and yet I know it is not fish I’m after.

Henry’s First Fish

I missed last week’s newsletter and am behind on today’s because I went to our cabin in Broken Bow for a long weekend a week ago with family. It was wonderful. The weather was nice and cool. It was a little on the rainy side, but that is a plus for me. You can fish in the rain!

Henry and I sneaked off for a hot hour of fishing. It is such a cool thing watching your son fish. We spent some time setting up the fly rods. This may sound a little over the top, but I bought both my kids three weight fly rods on their third birthdays. We made a day out of it. We went to the Orvis store, and they both picked out SuperFIne Carbon rods and then picked their colored line and backing. My thought is that we will start them on the basics young, and if they enjoy the hobby, they can keep the rods as a backup when they get older, and if they don’t enjoy fishing, well then, I get a nice spey casting rod perfect for tight rivers.

We set up our rods and went to practice our casting. The lesson is simple: rhythm and patience. We call it one-two: pull up, push down. Find the rhythm, and keep the patience. That’s it. Very simple. We had been at it for about twenty minutes or so, and I could tell Henry was getting bored. He’s five… you know.

I encouraged him to try a few more casts. Nice and slow, one and two. He tosses his line out just perfectly. The exact amount. I set him up with a hot-headed damsel, a simple yet effective fly pattern. And boom. The trout jumps right on. Again, he is casting, not me. I was about five to ten feet upriver. Henry sticks the rod straight up and hooks the trout. He’s fighting back, but Henry holds his ground. I’m running over there, grab the net. This five-year-old, all 25 pounds, is battling this fish. Net in hand, I swoop up the fish. First trout landed.

At five years old, Henry caught his very first fish. And I figured out what that Thoreau quote was all about. We don’t go fishing for fish… none of us do. We go fishing to learn about life, about love, about passion, and poetry. We go fishing to spend time with our sons and daughters. We fish for love and community; we fish for isolation and introspection. We fish to commune with the world around us. We fish to discover the depths of our emotions, to feel, and to know that we are here. That is why we fish. That is why all men fish.

I hope you have enjoyed these thoughts for your self-examination. See you next week.

-CT

PS. Check out the podcast if you like to listen.

Unrelated Stuff and Things

Below you will find groups, projects, organizations, programs, and cabins I am passionate about and involved in. I hope it doesn’t come off as shameless self-promotion. All the same, they are important to me so I thought I would share. Feel free to skip them if you like.

Feeling Generous?

Counseling for the Future Foundation and Grant Halliburton Foundation are two amazing non-profits doing some great work in the field of Mental Health. You can help make a difference by giving your time, empathy, and financial support. Learn more by clicking the logos below.

A few things related to mental health:

Check out our latest mental health post on the TCG blog, and learn more about the Empifany app, the Titus Check-In System, and our newly developed Independently Strong course.

The Independently Strong course is designed specifically for spouses or partners who have experienced trauma or abuse within relationships with individuals struggling with substance use disorder. Covering topics such as trauma bonds, identifying characteristics of healthy relationships, understanding the impacts of unhealthy dynamics, boosting self-esteem to align decisions with personal values, establishing boundaries, engaging in self-awareness exercises, and delving into various other crucial aspects, this comprehensive program offers essential guidance and support for healing and empowerment. Learn more about the course here.

Need a Break?

We love going to Broken Bow. It has been a special place for me for a long time and it has been a dream to share this beautiful place with my kids. If you are interested in treating yourself to some relaxing away time up in the pines of Broken Bow feel free to book one of our cabins. There is no greater retreat than the woods.

Okay! That’s all I got. Feel free to send me an email. Anything I can do for you?