Originally appeared in Strung Magazine, Winter 2018-2019
By Mark Hieronymus
Anticipation – the act of looking forward; visualization of a future event or state.
The seat-belt ding on the plane elicits an almost Pavlovian reaction from me every time I hear it in this particular airport. The mental fire lit over the course of a long, cold winter has become an inferno, and the slow foreplay of trip prep, the handling of the rods and flies like icons and fetishes, has done nothing but fan the flames. Now that all obstacles have been overcome and I am about to hit the ground running, I have to fight down the overwhelming and startlingly involuntary urge to salivate.
Opening day, and not a minute too soon. On the blurry 4am ride up to the hop-in hole, the built-up stress and anxiety only add to the queasiness of a hung-over mind and body. As I wind the throttle up, I feel the break and reset in the mental process of the Game. The visualization placebo that has been silently looping in my brain, running on last year’s collective memories and photographs, is about to be replaced by the new, real sensations of the crunch of gravel underfoot, the scream of gulls overhead, and the vicious yank of this year’s first fish.
Disappointment – failure to fulfill the expectations or wishes of; to frustrate.
Why does losing a big fish sting so much? The wailing, the gnashing of teeth, the despair and anguish over these brief connections and sudden departures, all for a fish you were going to release anyway. As the spray and smoke clear I replay the brief dance in my mind, searching for the fatal flaw in my technique, the disturbance in the force that leads to this dreaded outcome. I know they are just fish, and fish are supposed to be a bonus, but I’ve come too far too many times to keep believing that.
The Game starts to numb a fella after a few days. The initial flurry of excitement after the opening bell has settled down and the transition to punch-drunk shamble isn’t quite complete, but it is on the way. The routine is settled into: out of the boat, top of the run, cast, swing, step, repeat. The metronome ticks away in waltz time, 3 steps and a cast written on the sheet-music of the river and played on the line as it arcs though the water. Every now and then the rhythm is broken by a tug or a small fish, but for the most part the anesthetic fog rolls in and the runs and days start to blur.
Expectation – the degree of probability that something will occur; an awaiting.
When it happens, it happens quickly, and there isn’t time for anticipation or expectations of outcome. The die is cast at the first surge of line off the reel, at which point critical application of technique and theory is thrown out the window – the hook finds purchase, or it does not. I get lucky, the hook holds and a new dance has begun. Time slows, focus narrows, and all is lost but the thin, crook’d finger of the rod pointing a fluorescent line into the flow, indicating the ever-changing location of my dance partner. Several nerve-fraying runs, many unexpected changes of direction later, and there is a wash of relief as the fish enters the net.
Tranquility – the state of being free from agitation of mind or spirit; free from turmoil.
This, I realized, is why I come up here to be angered and humiliated by these magnificent fish. The intense feeling you get when holding one of these dinosaurs is worth all the anxiety and disappointment, the soul-searching and self-loathing that accompany every missed opportunity, every blown shot. This is the fuel that lights the fire in winter. This is the making of the memory that fans the flame all spring. This feeling is the blaze that draws me back again, year after year, to have my fishing self-esteem repeatedly crushed just to get the odd chance to hold one of these awesome creatures again.
With the release of the fish comes a release of tension, an awkward display of emotion usually reserved for different times, different settings, and different people. I sit because I can’t stand, and I stare because there isn’t anything left to focus on. After a while, I get up and start the Game all over again.
