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Rest in Peace, Mr. Gierach.
John Gierach is partially responsible for articulating many anglers’ inscrutable devotion to fly fishing. After finding a fly rod in the garage, and realizing what the clear disk of feathered hooks in grandpa’s tackle box was meant for, I began to work out the dynamics of fly fishing on my own. Sunrise Lake at Lewis Morris Park is the location of my first casts - and yes, I chose the bee from the nearly rusted out flies. I managed a few sunnies, but was not casting like Norman Maclean (read - Brad Pitt) and couldn’t figure out why. Being an avid reader my whole life, I looked for a book that may help me figure out what to do next to become a fly fisherman. Instead, I found John Gierach.
Sex, Death, and Fly Fishing (1990) was my foray into the genre. The book is not a “how-to” about fishing or anything else the title suggests; instead, I found the trout bum philosophy from an angler who writes like a poet. At first, I read more about fly fishing than actually casting a line. I had no idea what a Light Cahill even was, but I wanted to scramble down the banks of a stream in Colorado at dusk to find out what Gierach and his cohorts were up to - standing around the banks and watching the bugs. Thanks to Mr. Gierach’s humor, self-deprecating approach, and the romantic portrayal of a Trout Bum I saw fly fishing didn’t have to be as snooty as the boutique stores in the high-end malls seemed to suggest. It is no accident that around this same time I found out about a little fly shop in Califon, NJ. I was going to become a bum, too, and maybe one day a writer like him. Thanks to Gierach’s guidance one of those has come to fruition.
Here are a few lines that match our current fishing situation from the chapter titled, “The Drought Year:”
From friends we hear that the fishing “could be slow” but that it was not exactly what you’d call “lousy.”
“Is it worth coming?” we asked.
“That’s up to you guys,” they said carefully.
The tackle shop owners sounded a little more ominous. When we asked, “Is fishing any good?” we heard things like “Well, there’s water in the rivers, and there are fish in the water…”
You have to watch out for that kind of obfuscation. The correct answer is, “Yes, the fishing is good,” period. If the voice on the phone can’t say that, something is up. Fly shop types are never vague when the fish are biting.
This week in New Jersey, there is water in our rivers and there are fish in the water - I’ll be danged if I can find them. They will be waiting longer for their hatchery-raised companions because, in case you have not heard, the Fall Stocking for 2024 has been postponed. It is truly tough out there and may remain so for a bit. To pass the time, here are a few excerpts from Sex, Death, and Fly Fishing from Google Books. I recommend Trout Bum after that; you can find the cure for “voidophobia” here at the shop next time you swing by.
I’ll see you out there - after it rains.
Roy B.
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