Those who are addicted to fly fishing already know that catching fish is at best a close second to the pure pleasures of this sport. At the outset you should know this is not a technical article about fly fishing, instead it speaks to aspects of the sport which sometimes gets lost when the focus is on catching fish.

While you are welcome to disagree with this article, and no offense taken, perhaps you'll keep my point in mind for that future non-productive day when not a single fly in your box works - zero. And, if you do, here's how to save the day and return home richly rewarded without having raised a single trout. When you know it's an off day, head for the nearest shady spot on the stream bank, put the rod aside, find a comfortable seat, put your mind in neutral and just sit. Soon your mind will be washed free of the baggage you brought to the stream and with luck your most private thoughts will start to surface. Face the truth of these thoughts with an open, honest heart. Your best advisor is your own mind and this is a perfect opportunity to have that discussion within yourself to reach a mental peace however long it takes.

If really successful, you will experience a state of relaxation at odds with the high speed traffic of today's life style. And you should be able to feel a part of the wonder and beauty of all that surrounds you. Not unlike more active sports, you will then be in the zone! It may be fleeting, or last an entire afternoon, but you will know it only by experiencing it. A dozen or so years ago while fly fishing in Northeastern Colorado with a group of my Western friends I discovered the zone for the first time. We had 20 miles of a private stream, loaded with native Rainbows and Browns, to fish over our four day stay. Each morning we had breakfast with the working ranch hands, stuffed might better describe breakfast, and those that were able to walk away from the table picked up a five pound bag of lunch, and loaded into the back end of a pickup truck and off to fishing.

On this day, we had agreed to roughly a half a mile separation between each man. So, armed with waders, lunch, loaded vest, extra reels, etc., my loaded body weight having increased by what seemed like 50 pounds, I struggled through the brush to the stream. The plan was to wade up stream, dry fly time, and when another man came in sight to leave the stream and find the lead man, then re-enter the stream well ahead of him. This worked fine for most of the morning with some rather nice action until my arm started to fall off, so lunch and a bit of rest was in order. Unknowingly at the time, I followed the suggestions offered above and retired to a beautiful small grove of Aspen trees.

What happened next was my introduction to what I now classify as the pure pleasures of fly fishing. As I was loading my stomach with lunch, propped up against an Aspen tree, several small deer entered the grove and carefully watched me as I sat silently watching them. As soon as they sensed I was not threatening, they munched their way through the grove and were gone. Finishing lunch and with the sun now overhead filtering its rays through the shimmering leaves of the grove, my mind went into neutral. This tranquil setting soon resulted in my being mentally confronted with thoughts from a long past family tragedy which somehow compelled me to deal with them. Without details, I did. Then in a moment I was sound asleep and woke up only after hearing my name by frantic calls from several of my pals, who hours earlier realized I was missing.

My red faced explanation was only that I had overeaten and had fallen asleep. The interval between lunch and their wake-up calls remained private. Fly fishing trips since now include time for the peacefully beauty of the stream and all that my vision can deliver to me. Several years ago, it was my pleasure to introduce my wife and our adult daughter to Western Montana and its mountains, high country beauty and small towns with their warm, friendly people who are never in such a hurry that they'd pass up a good chat with a stranger. While it's a little soon after their first fly fishing trip to venture an opinion on what experience might trigger their first communion with nature, I'll bet the ranch it will happen and shortly thereafter, you'll likely find all three of us under the Aspens having a little afternoon nap.