After furnishing you with a flurry of early spring reporting I went off the grid for a bit. If I’m not careful I can slip into some of my old bad habits. I was recently surfing through the aisles of a local big box sporting goods store when I had an epiphany of sorts. I was stopped in my tracks at this Fenwick fishing rod rack. There was nothing particularly special about the fixture, other than the large photograph that adorned its flanks. A flood of memories washed over me. In my line of work it’s commonplace to cross paths with things that you’ve created. You make stuff, you send it out into the universe, and occasionally reacquaint yourself with it at a later time and date. I shot this pic for Fenwick a number of years ago and it served as a catalyst for a self-imposed hiatus from the glitzy world of angling photography. At this point in my life shooting fishing pics became nothing more than a simple commodity. It was a classic case of mixing business with pleasure and ultimately it became a chore. Quite frankly, it led to me no longer carry a camera while on the water for a decent chunk of time. Angling excursions big and small went by without a single frame to capture the experience. It felt good for a few years to get back to the basics and remove the tether by not worrying about photographing this or that. Truth be told I only started snapping pics again with my phone about the time I started this blog. As it turns out it’s hard to spin a yarn without the visual layer to support your case. I guess my college english professor was right, I’m no Ernest Hemingway. I’d imagine that most who partake in documenting their ventures struggle to keep it fresh. Beyond the endless string of water, woods and caudal fins, if your goal is a simple case of hero worship ultimately you’ll be left empty-handed. I’ve always claimed mine to be more of a personal journal than a periodical in the truest sense. It’s all fluff, and occasionally it also becomes a chore to construct the narrative. If there is truly something to be written, it will find it’s way to these pages, otherwise Adrift can to languish with the best of them.
So where does that leave us? What is all this mindless blather about anyway? I decided to freely fish a good portion this spring without the fishing blog elephant on my back. Fish came and went with little fanfare. Fishing rods and hearts were broken with little more than my standard array of curse words. In the interest of full disclosure, it’s a little known fact that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I really haven’t been out in full force this spring due to the life/work balance conundrum. Though, after a new watershed didn’t quite live up to my hopes and expectations back in April, I could only soothe my soul with the steamy auspices of some Tung Ting Shrimp. Was this stream not as good as I’d hoped? Were its fish victims of climactic change like the others swirling in the internet rumor mill? Wrong place? Wrong time? Perhaps I’ll never know. I was eloquently reminded by a power infinitely more wise than myself that in life, blogging, and angling, slow and steady wins the race.