Waterside Thougts

“You are always a student, never a master. You must keep moving forward.” — Conrad Hall Every angler starts somewhere. Its like a new job, a new relationship, a new stretch of water—it’s all the same idea. Fishing is universal because it bends to the person holding the rod. Some folks crack a beer, set a chair, and watch a bobber. Others run boats, sonar, high-dollar rods, or hike miles into the woods to micro-fish forgotten pools. None of it is wrong. Fishing is what you make of it. For me, it’s trout. Always has been. I grew up chasing them, and I’ve been hooked on the finesse ever since—the light gear, the subtlety, the fight. My take on gear is simple: I like spinners. I like luring a fish into striking. Watching a trout follow a spinner to your feet, hesitate, then commit—it never gets old. No matter what species you chase, there’s one phrase every fisherman needs to understand: you never know . When you truly accept that you never know, you put yourself in the right mind...

Sitting on the riverbank, casting into open water, letting the lure drift as you reel—maybe pausing a moment if you’re working a minnow plug—there’s time. Time for the rod tip to twitch. Time for the current to pull. Time for the mind to go where it usually isn’t allowed. You think. About what has happened. About what will happen. About people, places, and things…which covers nearly everything a person can think about. Everything except action. Except movement. In my case, sometimes the only proof I’m still here is whistling. Fishing alone does that. Your hands stay busy while your mind is left unguarded. No screens. No noise. No one asking anything of you. Just water, repetition, and whatever you’ve been avoiding. I don’t think a lot of people are afraid of being alone. They’re afraid of what shows up when there’s nowhere left to hide.