picked, and your fly choice seasonally appropriate. Are you finally ready to hit the water? Well yes, if you are one of those people who either learns quickly or is unbothered by mistakes. I’m my own worst enemy in this regard, so here is my best possible advice for finding peace on the river’s edge:
Accept that you are going to make frustrating errors: flyfishing is a skill, and nothing comes without work, so be prepared to let them bounce off you. On my first day out, I followed a road that paralleled the river until I located a small trail that disappeared into young cottonwoods. They were so intermingled and tangled that when I walked into them I caught the toe of my shoe on a low branch and flew head first into a bundle of sticks and leaves. I nearly lost my footing and fell on my back from the rebound of collected branches. In the process, my reel lodged in the fork of a branch and almost pulled my arm out of socket. When I finally did burst through the shrubs I almost fell off the four foot bank into the river while sinking into several inches of mud. It continued: I was assailed by hard biting deer flies as I spun on the ledge trying to locate a foothold. I finally found a two foot tongue that extended from the bank and overlooked a small backwater pool bordered by two sunken logs. It seemed perfect, but there was no place to set down my kit and maneuver. I kept sticking my reel in the mud as the flyline retreated down the pole shaft every time I tried to tie on a fly. The sun glared off the thin line, so it was hard to see an already difficult knot while carefully maintaining my balance. The flies renewed their attack after swatting the first wave away as I prepared my first cast. The wind was against me and the line kept blowing back into my position, and I snagged a clump of grass two times in succession forcing me to set down the pole and follow the line. It was then I realized I was battling too hard for something that was conceptually simple. I took a couple deep breaths and disconnected from the situation.
I realized that I was in one of the most beautiful fishing locations in the world and decided not to give into the melancholy of tiny disasters. I was looking over clear water into the western boundary of Glacier National Park and what was a slightly bruised ego compared to that? So what if I caught squat, I was free
Two for one is a double point score. Bird watching and fishing near Tally Lake.
and beyond the reach of clocks and office walls. To be here was a privilege that many would never know, so I reset my perspective and embraced my surroundings. I tugged out a healthy section of flyline, and began to cast again.
I still had my struggles, but I noticed something after a while: once I was able to find my rhythm, things came easier and I was able to free up my mind. My casts travelled further, the line floating more on the wind than fighting it, the placement of my fly more accurate. Small realities in the landscape began to jump into my consciousness. A female song sparrow kept returning to a favorite branch after flying in small loops to collect swarming mosquitoes. A pile of sticks turned out to be a beaver dam and the cause of a nearby shallow pond. Small fish on the edge of the pool were interested in my fly, but were too cautious to investigate and expose themselves to bigger fish. Indian paintbrush bloomed on the far bank as Glacier National Park created a majestic purple backdrop to my yellow fly line. Suddenly, it didn’t really matter if I caught anything and a low hum of peace dissolved my thoughts. The bustle and pace of modern culture faded as I became present in the rhythm of my dancing casts. The roar of the river, the lazy circle of my royal coachman (fly), and the songs of swallows weaving overhead became a tapestry of life in the wilderness. Just peace.
I inhaled one final deep breath of mountain air, and decided to make a final cast. The casting came easy by this time and I was able to present (place) the fly as I intended. The fly
bounced off the backwaters of the swirling pool before a flash of silver appeared just