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Jun 14 2021

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Up the Mountain Brook

Posted at 3:10 pm under Blog Post

Last week I had such a good time fishing a mountain brook that yesterday I decided to do it again. With temps in the 70s and under the cover of trees most of the time, I hardly broke a sweat. And the biting bugs weren’t too bad. But to my surprise, I learned something about myself that I’ve somehow missed during brook fishing trips in previous years. It suddenly occurred to me, as I was scrambling over some of the rockier sections of the brook, that I’m not as light on my feet as I used to be. Not even close.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I’m in my 60s now and time takes its toll on the body. All the same, in my minds eye I am still a young man and expecting to rock-hop up the brook with all the agility I had in my 30s. So what a wake-up call it was to jump down a few feet from a large rock and feel the hard landing shoot all the way up my spine. My worn out knees didn’t absorb the shock.

Judy says I should be glad that I can even do it. Scrambling up a mountain brook full of boulders and blowdown and cascading water is no mean feat. She’s right, of course, and I am thankful for being in good enough shape to ascend a mountain brook. And only once did I fall down – during the initial descent into the steep ravine. So I can’t complain. Still there are only two occasions these days when I really feel my age: when getting up to pee in the middle of the night, and when negotiating the rugged terrain of the backcountry.

The exuberance that I felt as a younger man while immersed in the wild has given way to reflection in my advanced years. I think more about life and death as I walk a brook these days, accompanied by the ghosts of old friends and canine companions who have passed away. I am more grateful for simply being in the woods, and take none of it for granted. Consequently, I treat the fish I catch with greater reverence. Their lives are nearly as precious to me as my own, so I make it a point to put them back to the water unharmed. Rarely do I take them home for dinner any more.

Oh yeah, I caught a few brook trout yesterday, but nothing to brag about. And the ones that got away were bigger, of course. All that is beside the point. Nowadays I work my way up the mountain brook in deep forest solitude angling for something much more important – a sense of belonging in the natural world and delighting in it. In that regard, I am never disappointed. In that regard, I always return home with my creel full.

 

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