stalking the wild trout

Nelson (a.k.a. trout joneser) took me to a beautiful stream last weekend to re-introduce me to the wonders of fly-fishing. Having shunned the sport years ago after returning trout-less from too many afternoons spent in a roaring stream cursing and yelling, I was sort of dreading this trip. I knew well the frustration of getting the silken fly line tangled in a tree, or losing a fly from tugging too hard to release it from a mossy rock. Once, after a sloppy sideways cast, a fly pierced the muzzle of my pooch, who was lingering downstream. I guess you can say that I lack a certain sportsmanlike grace.

I admit, I have problems fishing with troutjoneser. I'm not sure if its a competition thing, or my sensitivity to the rising frustration in his voice when I don't understand his directives ("don't flap your wrist!"), or my perfectionist pride, but it makes me anxious to "lose", especially in the face of troutjoneser's prowess, and then I feel stupid. And I didn't want to feel stupid on this unexpectedly sunny Sunday. But I wanted to be together, to get out of the house, and to do something fun. After 4+ years of marriage, this is important, is it not? To indulge each others interests with a sense of lighthearted adventure?

After a short ride through rolling farmland, we arrived at the stream (which cannot be named, troutjoneser informed me. One cannot divulge the identity of a good source for trout). After slathering ourselves in Deet and sunscreen, we rigged up our rods and reels, and waded in. My initial casts were rusty. I was sort of flapping the rod back and forth, expending a lot of energy, so that when I released the line, the fly landed about 3 feet in front of me. But troutjoneser patiently pulled me aside, and showed me how to cast, keeping my wrist straight, flush with the handle, so that the rod was an extension of my arm. My brow had no doubt furrowed last time he demonstrated this basic skill, but this time it clicked.

The wide-open stream made for perfect rookie conditions. The water was shallow enough so that I could wade into the middle, away from trees and shrubs to snag my line on. And when I did snag, I remained surprisingly calm, and removed the fly with little effort. I didn't catch a thing, but being on the stream rooted me in the present, allowed me to slow down and focus my mind on the stream before me and the scene around me: on the flow of the stream across the rocks, the Monarch butterflies and emerald green dragonflies alighting on the banks, the birds calling their mates.

The day (minus the GINORMOUS MOSQUITOS, a topic for another post!) was pretty close to perfection. I'm not sure what to make of my change of attitude. Perhaps its just being a little older, or perhaps it has to do with the very small window of summer that we have in Maine, that makes me simply grateful to be outside in nature. For now, I am still a humble beginner, content to venture forth with the trout joneser. If I catch something, great, but above all, I hope to maintain the peace, patience, and detachment necessary of all trout fisherwomen.

Summer

Summer is here and to celebrate, I've poured myself a vodka tonic. Nothing like an icy cocktail to soothe your soul after a day at the office. Along with a good v&t, here are some more summery things to celebrate:

Strawberries: You Carolinians were delighting in delicious berries two months ago, but here, its a berry rebirth. Farm stands and pick up trucks advertise their bounty with painted strawberry signs. The taste of fresh local strawberries is divine and just doesn't compare to the plastic boxed fruits from the supermarket. The flavor is bright, alive, juicy, tart, sweet.

Farmers markets: The local farmers market just opened, and we have lettuces, greens, snap peas, eggs, and berries. Not quite the cornucopia offered at the Carrboro farmers market this time of year, nor the number of vendors. There are only 2 growers at the market, but at least there is an alternative to the trucked in mass-produced shrink-wrapped veggies at the super, with more bounty to come.

Lupine: This lovely wildflower grows in clusters of foot-long purple, pink and white spikes, perking up roadsides and ditches. As the lupine peaks, its time about to pass, more wildflowers are emerging. On Sunday i spied my first black-eyed Susan of the summer. Yarrow, too!

Blessings all, gifts of summer sunshine and longer days. Though we've been under some serious cloud cover for weeks on end, I'm hopeful that we'll have plenty of sun to keep the gardens growing all summer long.

Lake St. George

Last Sunday, after a gloomy gray morning and weeks of rain, the sun burst through the sky, breaking up a mass of clouds into Simpson-like tufts of cotton candy, framed by bright blue. Faster than you can say "disgusta", our car was packed and we were burning rubber.

Destination: Lake St. George, one of Maine's 6,000 picture perfect lakes. 30 minutes east of town on Route 3, this lake has a pretty lawn for sunning, a tiny beach, picnic tables and bbq pits for gatherings of family and friends (hint hint), and the cleanest, most beautiful spring fed water for swimming and paddling. Pure heaven.

If there is a draw back to this little oasis from Dullsville, its the thrum of Route 3 in the background. And the black flies.

The black fly is a pesky bloodsucker, somewhere between a gnat and a mosquito in its speed and verocity. They hover, but don't buzz. This adaption lends itself nicely to a sneak attack up your sleeve for a quick chomp. While the species we encountered was more annoying than blood-thirsty, I've heard reports of some nasty black fly reactions, including bleeding and swelling. Just do a google image search on black flys, and you'll see what I mean. (With 50 species of black fly out there in the universe, there is one to torment each and every one of us.)

In a quest to learn more about the black fly, I discovered a funny little group (whose tongue-in-cheek devotion to the "unofficial state bird" recently earned them an NPR interview), the Maine Blackfly Breeder's Association. Two points of redemption for the suckers: black flies are one of the most important pollinators of blueberries, and their presence is an indicator environmental health. It seems they thrive in clean, running water.

So, don't let the blackfly deter you from visiting. Slather on the deet, grab your bug net, and come on!