Well, it happened again. I needed to get away. So, I impulsively decided to pack up my camping and fly fishing gear and head to the Guadalupe River (March 10-12). I needed some space. It would be just me, myself and I…and Nature—not a bad combination.
Steven Charleston captured the “calling” I felt:
“Come to this quiet center, this place of peace [often in Nature for me], where you can turn off the information flow and just take time to think. Spirit is waiting for you here. You can close your eyes and feel warm energy moving through you. Then after a blessing from your ancestors you can go back to the world, but this time: smiling.”
I’m a checklist sort of guy. For a camping trip I have a spreadsheet with all the gear to consider taking. For a trip I review each item and decide if I want to take it on that trip, and if so be sure it is packed. Occassionaly I add to or delete from the list as I acquire or discard gear. So far it has worked out well. I also have a list for my fishing gear, which I sometimes use.
But I don’t have a list for what clothes to take. But so far no problems. That is, until this trip. I got in my truck Monday morning and headed toward the river. Two hours down the road I made my customary stop at Buc-cee’s in Luling, TX, to get gas, coffee, a sausage, egg and cheese burrito, and to use their “clean” restrooms. In that process, I realized I had forgotten to put on a belt! My first thought—That’s going to be a problem. Then, I thought, I’ll just use a spare wading belt I carry in my fly fishing wader bag. But, when I got it out, the buckle would not fit through the loops on my pants. What to do? So I got out my “tool bag,” found a piece of rope and improvised. Not pretty…but functional—it kept my pants up for the few days. I felt like Gilligan, stranded on an island.
For three days I waded up and down the river, searching for trout…and seldom if ever worrying about the state of the world. Just enjoying the presence and peace of Nature on the river. Fortunately, the “trout gods” were good to me and I caught at least one trout on every excursion I made. But even if I had not caught any, the Peace of the River was worth all the effort.
On Tuesday evening, I was wading upriver looking for some good holes for holding trout. In doing so, I spotted three or four nice trout. I fished the hole as best I knew how, but I was unsuccessful in getting a take. Eventually, I headed upstream and made a mental note to stop there on the way back down. I would offer them a different menu and see if they were ready to eat.
After a few hours and catching several trout, I made my way back downstream to the prior hole. As I approached it I could see what looked like fish feeding just below the surface. Their heads were not coming out of the water, but I could see movement—like they were just sipping. I couldn’t tell what they were eating. But I got excited as I thought about the possibility of some top water action. I backed off a few feet and re-rigged my rod for a dry fly (top water for you non fly fishers), tied on a small Parachute Adams and hung an emerger pattern off the back of it (since their heads were really not coming out of the water).
After slowing moving into what I thought was a good angle from which to cast. I made my first cast. A fish swiped at my fly but did not take it. My excitement grew. I cast again and this time it took the fly. Only, as I pulled it in, I realized I had a sunfish and not a trout. After releasing it, I cast again and again and caught about two dozen, some on the dry fly but most on the emerger—the fish literally tore it up. But all those fish I had seen coming up and caught were sunfish—not a single trout. But I have learned that you take what the River giveth. I enjoyed every sunfish I caught.
As I was leaving the water, a flock of turkeys passed in front of me. In it there was a big Tom Turkey. He was swaggering and fanning his tail feathers, which they do to woo their mates. Yep, it’s that time of the year—breeding season down south, for turkeys that is.
Wednesday morning, I was back in the water and after landing a few fish, I went back to camp, loaded up, and headed home. Satisfied and quiet on the inside. As Charleston said, I was smiling—inside and out. Though my granddaughter would say that my smile on the outside is a little hard to see. On the drive back I was looking forward to seeing my wife (like that ole Tom).
But deep down, I began to get a feeling of dread about what I would learn about, what terrible things had happened in the world while I was away.
Sadness and gloom began to creep back in. I guess I’ll have to go back to the Guadalupe next week.
Let me close with a few words from my “friend” and outdoor writer, Steven Ramirez, as we are both concerned about our dwindling natural resources.
“We Must Save our National Parks, Forests, Wild and Scenic Rivers and Natural Treasures and the people who serve us to protect these beautiful living communities – from private and governmental exploitation.…
Our national parks and forests deserve better. Our wild rivers and streams, trout and other wildlife are counting on us to protect them – from us….
For me, silence is complicity and I must as an act of moral courage stand with the people who serve this crumbling nation in the effort to protect our precious Natural Treasures. Once they are gone, they are gone forever….
We are killing our planet. We are destroying our Home.
Please join me in standing up for the preservation and protection of our National Public Lands, Waters, Wildlife, and Cultural Heritage. Please consider supporting the organizations of your choice who can collectively and legally fight these actions in defense of our public lands and national natural treasures.” (From a Facebook post of his on 2/15/25)
For those interested in preserving this world and seeing it through the eyes of nature and fly fishing, I recommend Steve Ramirez’ series of books: Casting Forward, Casting Onward, Casting Seaward, and Casting Homeward.
