Butterfly-fishing
by Jim Bailey
I am not a misanthrope but I do
shun the company of people when it comes to fly-fishing. When I have a stream to
myself, I become more at ease, more aware of my surroundings, and open to
nature's bounty. I am not so busy chatting about hatches, competing for water,
or enviously eyeing the skillful ease of a fellow angler's cast. One downside is
that there is generally no one present to confirm or deny the size and number of
trout I catch and release on any given day. Even worse, when something truly
incredible happens no one is there to verify it. However, this is a small
sacrifice for the pleasure such experiences in solitude brings.
When I am on a stream solo, extraordinary things happen. One experience I will
never forget occurred while I was fishing a stream near my home in the West
Kootenays of Southern British Columbia. This particular day in July was like
most of our summer days: scorching. There was no breeze, no clouds, no shade,
only the merciless weight of the sun. Thankfully, I was waist deep in the cool,
forgiving river, casting my fly toward a deep depression sunk into the opposite
bank that created a bit of a back eddy. The fly settled a few feet upstream of
the eddy but the current soon floated it into the seam. It happened so fast -
the splash, the set, the trout hooked, played, and gently released - a nice
sixteen inch rainbow.
As I continued working the water, casually casting into the riffles and holes,
my eye caught a flicker of something in the air. Turning quickly to my right, I
focused my gaze on the stunning, acrobatic convulsions of a butterfly. The
vibrant purple wings with orange sun-burst tips and white borders, suggested a
Lorquins Admiral. It dipped and fluttered through the air until it settled on a
withered log at the edge of the stream. I saw another, an exact replica, take
wing and stumble drunkenly over the water. It was followed by the first. Then
another took off from a distant branch, which was followed by another from a
white stone, and another, and another and another.
They appeared out of nowhere and soon the air filled with hundreds of
flickering, fluttering butterflies, a sunlit, gleaming cloud of moving,
expanding purple space. They filled the sky and danced as though engaged in some
secret papilonian ritual. I stood frozen, heart pounding, as my breathing
quickened. The multitude of butterflies, now a shimmering, surreal entity,
encircled me, enveloped me in a mystical whirlwind; then lanquidly floated high
above, stopped and hovered as though poised on some mysterious looming
precipice, then as one fluid mass, tumbled off like air-born rapids down the
river valley and into the steep canyon.
I remained motionless for a long time after. I kept peering down into the canyon
in hopes that the butterflies would emerge for an encore. My breathing slowly
returned to normal but a strange, nervous tremor still lay deep in my stomach. A
slight breeze began to stir, and the sun dipped low over the western hills,
taking much of the oppressive heat with it. Suddenly off the water, a large
mayfly emerged. I watched as another alighted on the stream, drifting along on
its current only to be swallowed up in a fatal splash. I couldn't pass up a good
Ephemerella grandis hatch. I tied on a red quill dun and cast into the ebbing
light, the sound of butterfly wings still echoing in my head.
It was a sublime moment and though the experience may seem incidental to the
fishing, I could not have witnessed it had I not gone fly-fishing. Wherever and
whenever I go, whether alone or with others, it is for the simple pleasure of
being out on the water amidst the wonders of the natural world, seeking fish,
and, if truly fortunate, finding butterflies.
About the Author:
Jim Bailey and his wife Natasha
live in the west Kootenays of British Columbia, Canada, where they fly fish and
are regular contributors to publications such as BC Outdoors and Canadian Fly
Fisher Magazines. Jim also has his own website
http://www.fly-fishing-british-columbia.com
that shows his visitors the exciting fly fishing opportunities that wait for
them in British Columbia.
Source of this article:
www.goarticles.com
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