The Wisdom of Grasshopper Bridge

 

Sometimes not catching fish can spur observations that lead us deeper into understanding the world of trout and nature itself. That was the case one late summer day full of allergies, sneezing, and sunshine when a friend and I stopped at a tiny spring creek where a bridge runs over it.

 

When we got out of the car on that hot day, we immediately noticed that we were scattering grasshoppers. They were everywhere. An inch long and green, they bounced off our legs as we walked to the bridge to observe the water. Sure enough, trout were rising below the bridge, presumably feasting on the hoppers.

 

I quickly geared up and went downstream to work my way up to the bridge. I tied on a hopper and placed a cast among the fish. It went ignored. Puzzled, I began to vary the presentation: splatting the fly, dead drifting it, twitching it… all to no avail. My friend, watching from the bridge above, quickly caught a grasshopper in his cupped hands, and dropped it over the side of the bridge. GULP! A trout came shooting off the bottom as the natural insect hit the water and ate it with enthusiasm. I cast again. No dice. I changed flies. No luck. My friend dropped another hopper into the water. SMACK! A foot long brown feasted on the dainty morsel. I couldn’t get a grab. What was going on?

 

Then a car came slowly over the road and a local farmer drove over the bridge. The hoppers sunning themselves on the road scattered in a chaotic panic, many of them flying into the car, careening off the abutment, and falling in the water. The feeding frenzy that followed was a sight to see. I threw my hopper into the melee, but it got ignored again. This was a puzzle that needed some thought! I climbed back out of the water and joined my friend on his perch on the bridge. There we dropped more hoppers in the water, which were eaten like Oliver Twist going at his gruel. Interesting….

 

We went over to the other side of the bridge. The water was quiet on the upstream side. I cast a hopper into the pool and immediately hooked a nice brown trout. The puzzle was beginning to come together. The hoppers that fell off the bridge on either side were washed to the downstream side where they were quickly examined and eaten. The fish living on that side were so use to hoppers that they had become highly discriminating; counting the legs and measuring the size while examining the color of the bugs in a millisecond before eating them. The fish on the upstream side were not so discriminating, and could be fooled with an artificial fly. We experimented with our little hypothesis a few more times, and sure enough, the upstream fish were game, while the downstream fish were college-educated.

 

Getting back into the car and driving to a different section of river, we discussed and debated what we had learned. Perhaps it was not just the trout and the hoppers that provided us with lessons, maybe it was taking the time to observe and think on the stream while getting skunked that was the lesson in itself.

 

These years later, reflecting on the lessons of Grasshopper Bridge, I don’t remember the fish that well, instead, I remember the joy of learning. Those memories spur me these days to take more time out to observe and enjoy everything about this sport of fly-fishing. A sport that occurs among the wonders of nature, which if we make the effort to appreciate them, can often be much bigger than the fish.

Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.

Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.

In reviewing some of my fly-fishing writing, I find that much of it has been devoted to observation and thinking; analyzing what we do and our approach to this sport we so love.

I believe that thinking is part of what separates fly anglers from the madding crowds. The river consists of intricate puzzles to be solved, and by intent, we restrict ourselves to tackle which places restraint on our numbers. Observing, analyzing and reflection to me are the greatest part of fly-fishing. Experimenting with a new technique such as nymphing with an un-weighted nymph and no indicator can produce all sorts of discoveries (and frustrations). These discoveries and our ability to solve the puzzles create the foundation blocks of a good angler. The more varied the experiences we tack up, the more we have to weigh when sitting by the river and thinking over a puzzle. It gives us precedent.

Imagine a world in which an angler always fishes the same way in the same place and with the same technique. He or she enjoys some success, but has no other experience to measure or weigh it against. He or she would be incapable of solving puzzles on other waters simply because they have limited their experiences and therefore limited their critical thinking as well. I imagine that most of us would find it boring to do the same thing the same way all of the time, but yet so many of us do just that.

Thinking and problem solving allow a greater access to experiences as well. I would argue that the combination of restraint and thinking has always been countered by new technologies. Bead head flies, shooting heads, sinking lines, etc. are all great innovations, but also allow us to catch fish easier. That ease may in time start to decay our thinking skills as we allow the gear to solve the challenges we face.

A perfect example of this is the BASS circuit. Radar, sonar, water clarity readers which indicate which colors to use, crank-baits with LED lights and rattles… in essence everything humanly or technologically possible to give someone an advantage. Or take the center-pin angler with roe. The person really is taken out of the experience. Once one learns to select bobbers and arrange split-shot, there is just lobbing the rig into the river. It is the essence of simplicity and the antithesis of restraint. Little thinking is required at all any longer.

Our sport is supposed to be the opposite of that. Restraint in tackle and technique also means restraint in numbers. Although fly anglers may classify themselves as non-competitive, we increasingly adapt technologies and techniques to allow us to catch fish where we could not have caught them before. Is this wrong? No, not necessarily, but if we really are non-competitive, why show an increasing lack of restraint?

Fish catching is the measure of our success, and that is tied in with our ego whether we admit it or not. It is just a simple fact. When we begin to think of ourselves as ‘good anglers’, we often equate the maturation process with numbers of fish landed.

Putting away the technological advantages may allow us to get back to that essence of angling: the puzzle and how to solve it. We may have to use our brains instead of that new gadget that is being touted by the guy with the big fish on the magazine cover, but in that return to our essence, and the return of observing, thinking, and problem solving, we may become better anglers in the long run.

However, this is the age of instant gratification, and thinking out a problem and solving it on our own may be as much as an anachronism as a double-taper line. The Internet provided the vehicle through which the rivers could be whored out faster and new improvements in tackle brought to the market quicker. Most people who browse the web have about a thirty second attention span, and I think that may equate with the lack of patience that is required to solve a puzzle on the river with just oneself and a rod and a line. Thus, a lack of thinking results.

We all measure things by degrees. I am a dry-fly fisherman only, I use cane only, I nymph, but NEVER use an indicator, etc. There is no correct way nor any right or wrong in the way we approach the little problem of how to make Mr. Fish take or presentation, but when technology takes the place of thinking, it is a slippery slope to walk. Competition should occur with ourselves and the fish, not other anglers.

Thinking, observing, and the resulting learning are also very joyful processes. Yes, you did read that right, learning can be fun!

I have written that the essence of the sporting tradition lies with restraint. Now I would add that the resulting problem-solving and skills that have to be developed in order for us to bag our game make us the sportsmen and women that we are.

I think, therefore I fish.

Enjoy the whole journey. Miss nothing. Think, savor, and learn.

Walking

Walking in urban nature:

I love to take walks. Apart from the joy of exercise, walking in urban nature settings can be a joy of observation and discovery.

I was a lucky child. My father took me on long walks. On these walks to local parks, he would stop and explain to me how to identify trees by their bark, leaves, and fruit. He pointed out wildflowers. He taught me to see things that most people would never see. We watched birds and animals. He taught me to listen and how to be quiet. At night, he showed me the stars and the planets, pointed out constellations, and told me some of their stories and myths. In short, he installed in me a curiosity that grew as I did.

As a child, I was always the one peeking under things, poking into bushes, tasting berries, smelling blossoms, and looking for four leafed clovers. I had my own magnifying glass.

Fast forward many years and I am still on that same walk. A book on birds in one pocket, a curious leaf I gathered in the other. I am passed by joggers with cyber-attachments to tell them when they have achieved maximum heat rate efficiency, and wires in their ears to drown out the sounds of their own footsteps. Shaved head bikers with sunglasses roar by on motorcycles, living the consumer culture rebel dream. I walk on the grass, where nobody but the occasional dog or sunbather strays. All of humanity tends to stick to the pavement when possible.

There are others like me. Occasionally I will spot someone walking and pausing, looking into a tree, or watching a cloud. Once, a few years back, I was looking at a woodpecker through my binoculars, when a couple stopped and asked me “what I was looking for.” I answered “The meaning of life.”

I am going for a walk. Where to, I do not know.
Won’t you join me?