Down River from Heaven

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          I do not remember when fishing was more sport than spiritual. It is just that I am closer to God when I am in a trance that empties my mind and uplifts my spirit. I open myself to a world that is sensed only when the mind is quiet and the spirit is free. 

 

          My senses become more acute, my thoughts clear and quick. I become aware of the smells of life around me, especially the perfume that surrounds clean healthy water. It is jasmine, cinnamon, and earth, but just a faint echo- as if I am remembering the delicate sweet smell from an ancient memory. It stirs a powerful primal response in me and it is usually lost in life’s clutter.

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     The sound of the river is low and gentle and the sounds of nature are accentuated by the glorious riot of fall’s brilliant foliage. A breeze jostling nervous dying leaves is the loudest sound this early morning. First one, then three, and then a dozen frosted leaves fall in a cascade caused by the gentle puff. When the frosted maple and aspen leaves fall, the sound is like tiny chimes ringing in the forest at the edge of the river.

 

     First here, then there the leaves tinkle to the ground as if they are tiny bells heard from a great distance. The symphony all around me is magnificent. The sheer volume of my senses awes me, it is a marvelous natural high, and I am passionately addicted to it.

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      The harsh reality of winter’s onslaught is foreshadowed by the frost on the trees and the frozen edges of the river where it eddies into the small backwater.  The leaves lay on the ground in a thick mat of rust and gold. The season is almost over, but not until I fish one more day in God’s splendid Cathedral.

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     This river, in particular, is home. I know it the way a gardener knows his plot, one rock, ledge and sandbar at a time. I know every pool and pocket of water. This is the best mile on any river that I have ever fished, and I get more solitude than I need. It astounds me that even the locals do not come here much, so I often bring “guests” with me. This place is too sacred to hide, and I share freely with reverent fishermen.

 

     As the early morning turns into mid-morning, the sun shines brilliantly, the breeze slacks and the river comes back to life. The frost melts and evaporates, then the edge of the river thaws out, and suddenly the fish begin to stir from their resting places to feed on the sedges that magically appear over and on the water.  The large caddis flies look like clumsy blue-gray colored moths. They are actually born in the water and only metamorphose into the moth-like form for a few days or hours; long enough to mate, lay their eggs in the water, and get eaten by large greedy trout and salmon. Perfect.

 

     To say that the fishing is good is an understatement. At noon I have caught and released 30 salmon 16 to 21 inches and 15 trout 8 to 15 inches long. The huge number of large, aggressive trout and salmon should keep the small fish laying low. Matching the hatch is pointless because the fish attack everything the floats or swims by and the biggest question is how big? This will be a day to remember.        

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     The fishing has been marvelous and dinner is all but assured, but I will not take a fish until later because I want to cook it fresh. Brook trout are surely one of God’s gifts to man. In the fall, the mature male trout become intensely colorful, with vibrant red and white fins and bellies with vermiculated sides and iridescent spots of metallic blue and red over a dark background. The bright, strong, silver-sided landlocked salmon average two to three pounds and are more numerous than the glorious brook trout.

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            The afternoon wears on and I must confront the inevitable end of my adventure, and worse, the end of this year’s fishing. The long winter is almost upon the land. In a few short weeks the ice will grip the waters and snow will cover the land, and I will have only my memories and dreams to carry me through the cold slumber that dominates here. What dreams I will have until I will fish again in this place- down river from heaven.