Look I get that I don’t update this site enough, but I hate those blogs that have posts like:

“Today I ate a cheese sandwich, and watched cartoons with my pants at my ankles…”

Frankly, I really don’t care what you think or want or hope for.  See I have almost no computer skills…

Flyosophy Fun Fact: It takes the Flyosopher on average twice as long to post a picture than it takes to write a 1000+ word article.

I have no idea how many people read this page, I have no hit tracker, and the guy who asked why I don’t link other blogs – well I have no clue what you are talking about.

When it comes to the actually writing of “Flyosophy” the man that I respect most on the subject of writing had this to say:

“Well I read your blog and I came to the conclusion that your target audience is absolutely nobody.  Anyone who cares about fly fishing wouldn’t want to read it, people who don’t care about fly fishing wouldn’t be interested, and your writing style is so convoluted and schizophrenic that no one could be drawn to it for that reason either.  Also, you need to post more often; some of that stuff is hilarious, like the part about the slutty sister and the cheeseburger.”

Paul Stanton – Dean of Tufts University

There is one person, however, who I know reads Flyosophy – Donald Trump.

See I make a post about how I think Arab-chicks are hot, and Viola the next Miss USA.

Its nice to have friends in high places, and yes I am aware that there is some controversy with the beauty pageants again this year as there was last year and I have my own insights into that…which I’m sure you will hear about sooner or later, whether you want to or not.

Today’s post was supposed to be a fishing report type since last week I was in the Ontario region for the better part of a week pike fishing.  So without further ado here are all the pictures of the pike I caught.

Unless you think I just made a computing error – rest assured I did not, I simply did not catch a single pike.  As a parting gift here is a picture of me in my birth-control hat with a pickerel.

You should note two things in this picture – the first is that pickerel is awesome.  The second is how loose fitting that shirt looks on me, have I been loosing weight?  As a matter of fact I have and it’s not easy for me since I’m lazy and like to eat a lot.  So nice of you to notice I appreciate it…

Now in some ways the trip was a disappointment, but I had a fantastic time.  In fact, it may have been one of my very favorite trips.  I was going to write a bit about the less than ideal conditions and the variety of tactics Mark and I tried to overcome them, but instead I was reminded of a quote from Henry David Thoreau.

“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.”

Henry David Thoreau

I have mixed feelings about Henry David Thoreau.  Much of my life in academia I was compared to him – both in terms of style and content.  Our personal histories overlap at many points – Walden Pond was one of my “Home Waters” and Thoreau also spent a great deal of time on Cape Cod where I now live.  The places in Maine he traveled, I have traveled and I know the Concord River like the back of my hand.

Flyosophy Fun Fact:  Henry David Thoreau and the Flyosopher have the same birthday.

We were also both teachers who quit for much the same reason.  Our political views focus on personal freedom and individual responsibility and both have gotten us in trouble – Thoreau with the law, and me with chicks especially one that had the most amazing boobs – but save that tale for another time, her name was “Nunya Business.”   Finally – and this is the painful and mature realization – we both have a tendency to be sanctimonious pricks with ill-advised facial hair.

Read more about Henry David Thoreau at your local library…you can read more about the Flyosopher at…well you can’t…

The more I think of things though, the truer his words become.  In fact, fish may be the very last reason to go fishing at all.

Like catching a world-class striper may, in a very real way, be less of a motivator than not running wild through town wearing naught but chunky peanut butter and wielding a sledgehammer coated in purple flaming sterno.  Re-reading that I see how awesome that would be…but you get the idea.

You have heard all this before.  Nearly everyone who puts words down on the subject of fishing will express this point in some form or another.  They are all valid and true, even the ones which contrast.  A man may fish to remember a lost friend, or to forget some painful event – for a time.  I went fishing on 9/11/01 – I was not alone.  A husband could fish to escape from a nagging bitch of a wife, or he could pack up his kids and give her a much deserved and appreciated Saturday off.  Like all human endeavors, the event is really meaningless; it’s the thoughts and perceptions of the doers that truly matter.

For myself, I have always had something of a strained relationship with fishing.  As a kid I never wanted to play organized sports, because I knew they would cut into fishing time.  I chose my profession, because it would allow me to fish.  I do have moments where I wonder what my life would have been like if – like my brothers and sisters, simply never enjoyed fishing.  Would this passion I have for it been expressed in some other way?  It’s easy to joke and say that if I put as much thought into making money or curing disease that I have put into fishing – the world itself may be a better place.  It is probably more likely that I simply would never have experienced a passion like this, drifting through life with no real direction and simply a larger collection of Xbox games…who can say?

Who would want to?

The reality is that I spent 4 days tossing flies at various structures.  A few days I froze, a few I got sunburned, and none of them I caught very many fish, a few I caught none at all.  Yet at no point did I want to be anywhere else or anyone else.  I can’t say that about when I’m at work, or even when I’m home.  Home I hear echoes in empty rooms and often feel very lonely.  Alone in my small plastic kayak beneath the Milky Way miles from shore, I do not.  Fishing – whether there are fish or no fish – is the feeling of happiness, the quieted soul of a man who despite the vastness of the universe is right where he ought to be; right where he is supposed to be.  The weather may be foul, hatches may not happen, and they aren’t always biting – but this is a true happiness deeper than any I have yet known or perhaps ever will.

But it is enough.

Still if you are heading out anyways might as well catch something…so next up a look at some of my season 2010 flies…I’ll write down my predictions so we can laugh about them later.