“In the life cycle of a fly fisherman,” he
begins, his intonation like some type of
collegiate orator, “There’s a pattern I’ve
observed. In the beginning, for the first
few years, the fisherman is learning.
He knows he knows nothing, and so is
always trying to learn and practice.”
The whole time he is discoursing, he
is fishing. “After about five years, this
person thinks they know something,”
he mends his drift, “And so becomes
stubborn and closed off to learning new
things—they think they have the skills
down, and so go out to conquer the fish.
Depending on the type of person—”
[Here I feel some Buddhist or Christian
precept is appropriate, for instance,
“Know thyself.” ]
“Depending on the type of person,” Fred
continues, “This stage in the life cycle
of a fly fisherman can last for years,
sometimes ten, fifteen—I’ve met people
who have never gotten past it.” He takes
a minute to release another trout, eight
in an hour and a half if you are counting.
“Sometimes they get past it faster
though, and once past it,” he recasts
back near the same seam, “They realize
again they know nothing, and from
there they’re always learning.”