Recently I have realized that I cannot relate to the fly-fisherman of 2020. Maybe I simply refuse to accept the direction the once deemed “quiet sport” is headed or already has found itself. Aside from the gruff, uppity stiff and abrasive past where only those worthy enough to engage had the bank roll to afford the finest tweed, Tonkin cane rods and silk lines while only fishing swung flies for salmon and dry flies fished up stream to rising trout, one I could not relate to, and never agreed with, flyfishing was never just the “cool” thing to do. Today, I am beginning to wonder if that was a good thing.
I’ve never thought of myself as a crowd follower; always seemed to enjoy specific things but in my own sort of way and on my own terms. Maybe my childhood without any siblings is to blame, but I’d like to think my personality had more to do with that than anything. Impulsive was never an adjective that described my character, unless it involved something I was highly interested in or found extreme pleasure in doing. I gravitated to flyfishing in general not solely for the pleasure of catching fish, but primarily because it got me away from the bullshit surrounded around people and the rules put in place by society involving human interaction. A reprieve from community and the constant chess match of wit and wonder which has become increasingly more exhausting in this world we live in of unrealistic expectation, instant gratification, incessant fighting over who’s right and smoke and mirrors. Disconnecting with people for a small or large dose of nature has been something that I now realize, has grounded me entirely, recharged a drained set of societal batteries and made me think much more clearly.
For those of you out there who can relate, I think we all would agree that it has become harder and harder to escape the masses and find that solitude we all crave. The “new” demographic of angler seems to desperately be trying to change the landscape of our sport. Flyfishing is no longer considered the quiet sport, it has become a “community”, a constantly and ever increasing in your face race to outdo one another in a quest to explore and spread the stoke of that “epic” adventure with some sprinkled in and cleverly placed “branding” of the coolest new stuff. It is sad to say, but we are one giant infomercial and that infomercial has infiltrated every aspect of our lives. The lines appear to be blurred, and now it seems nothing is out of the realm of possibility regardless of whether it is considered a detrimental decision. People in general cannot get enough information, constantly craving the next tidbit to the point of being downright unnerving and rude. Maybe the answer is to fully disconnect from technology and become a hermit? Post a picture of a fish, within minutes someone is asking a detailed description of precisely where you caught it. Post a fly pattern, and in minutes someone wants a tutorial, step by step or video. The sense of adventure and exploration seems to be gone along with that token phrase the quiet sport; all to be wiped from history as if they never existed.
At times I realize that my fondest memories aren’t of what I was doing and with who, but more or less in line with where I was and what I witnessed. Selfish on face value, but candidly true in nature. Although I do fish with a select few people, which I’d like to think most would say they do the same. We don’t get after it to provide that next “piece of content”, we get after it because we enjoy every aspect of what we are doing for similar reasons and respect the resource the same without any ulterior motives. I am saddened to say that the face of the Flyfishing “Community” has lost its transparency and appears to have taken a turn down a long winding road of disingenuous rhetoric. We preach conservation in one breadth and push harder into the little that is untapped with camera crews, drones, and all the “cool new gear” to scratch that insatiable itch without true regard for the impact we potentially are putting on the wonders we have witnessed that this planet has to offer. The argument to that is always that if a place isn’t highlighted, it can’t be protected. Should those precious things be shared to everyone, or do we leave them be only to be found by those who are willing to explore them without turning them into the next business venture and marketing them to the masses? Admittedly I struggle with this daily, and do not know the answer; a conundrum of the highest level.
That’s why I say your “community” is bullshit, and is the farthest thing from what was the draw to this wonderful sport. This “community” is overexposing the things we love at a cost that is unmeasurable, and that no likes on Instagram can justify. We as people are better than that, and I know that I am not alone with what I’ve said. Leave some things for exploration, cut the informational pipeline back a little and let people figure some things out on their own; we have all created this mentality that many have now grown up with, and we can change it too. There is absolutely nothing wrong with sharing information for the growth of the sport. Save the term “community” for when we are all off the water, with friends discussing the activities and experiences of the day over our favored beverages, or those gatherings where the conservation of a resource we hold so dear is in peril and like minded people can come together to ensure it is protected for our children’s children. That is the only “community” that should be associated with Flyfishing, and I for one am taking a stand to not be a part of the “community” that is increasingly giving the sport that I love to my core, an unnecessary black eye.