Lately, life has been full of change. My kids started new schools, I’m preparing to begin a new job, and my husband’s busy season is finally winding down. Over the years, we’ve often planned to go fishing on a Monday—Nick’s usual day off—but like so many of us, we often end up canceling. There’s always something else to do, another task waiting at home, another reason to stay “productive.”
A few months ago, one of our priests said something that stuck with me: when you find something that brings you peace, that’s 100% God working in your heart. Joy and comfort can be fleeting, but true peace—that quiet, steady calm—is God at work within you.
“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing it is not the fish that they are after.”
— Henry David Thoreau
This Monday, we decided not to wait. We dropped the kids off at school, packed sandwiches and a cooler, and headed to the Little Red. We started at JFK, fishing for a few hours just downstream of the boat launch. The timing was perfect—the water had been generating that morning—as it continued to drop we ventured a little further downstream.
And that’s where we found it: a honey hole. Most of the campsites were empty that week, and the D loop along the river was completely vacant. We parked at D17, walked down the steps to the river, and immediately decided this was the spot.
Nick hooked the biggest fish I’ve ever seen on the Little Red. We hadn’t expected much and left our nets in the bags, but man. He eventually spit the fly after a solid four or five minutes of tussling, but not before we got a good look. Probably 20 inches. Thick. Strong. An absolute chunky monkey.
We switched up flies a few times but eventually found ourselves in the middle of a hatch. Once we tied on emergers, the fish started eating. Being on the river always brings me peace, but watching a fish leap out of the water? That’s pure joy.
When I started dreaming about this virtual space, I knew I wanted it to encourage people to begin—to start this hobby (or any passion, really) at any time. We so often wait for “the right moment,” or until we have all the gear, or until life feels less busy. But here’s the thing: there is no perfect time.
If you’ve ever thought about picking up a fly rod—don’t wait. Get out there, sister. Let’s go.
I’ve been a habitual quitter for most of my life. I played every sport (not very well, mind you), but somewhere along the way I realized that trying everything helped me discover what I truly love—and what I’m willing to invest my time into.
So, what are you waiting for?
Cast pretty,
HB
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