The Pull (warning, VERY long with no fish pics, only cliche wordy ponderings)

**JasonB** · 01-07-2013, 12:27 PM

I thought this might be safe from controversy, for the most part anyways. No, there are no spawning fish pics, no indicators, not a controversial thing I can think of. In fact not 1 fish at all! Don't think this'll ruffle any hackles, but might put some folks to sleep. Read on if you're brave, or bored, enough to follow my 3am wanderings from a recent steelhead soul searching (err I mean fishing) trip (feedback and criticism is welcome). Don't bother if you were hoping for some hero shots or fish reports.

The Pull:

I can feel it! The pull, subtle and and gentle now, but deep and strong nonetheless. Sometimes it's hard to tell if it is the pull of an elusive steelhead, ever my quest; or if it's "just" the pull of the current. And perhaps it doesn't matter either way. The almost sensual pull of the rivers steady current is just as calming and soothing as the powerful pull of the wild steelhead is exciting and invigorating. Kind of like the Yin and the Yang; is either complete without the other? The pull begins before my feet or my line hit the water. Pulling my waders over my feet, still half frozen... my feet that is; or pulling my line through the guides in my trusty fly rod... my fingers even more frozen. The Pull is always there with me, and now I can feel it slowly building and growing. That which brings me here all wet and cold, lost miles and miles away from my more sane members of society; that which I cannot quite define or explain, but which is always there. At least a little.

It's just after 3... in the am; dark, cold and dreary still and not at all conducive to fishing in any sense of the word just yet. I'm still nestled in the warmth of soft fuzzy clothes, and my down sleeping bag. I'm warm and cozy now, but wide awake. Dragged out of my dreams by the pull. I've driven almost 6 hours yesterday afternoon, and I'm about to drive another 4, or so. The pull clearly is not a steelhead right now, at least not quite literally. The pull now presents itself to me in this dark hour as clearly as ever before, it's almost as if I am feeling the same magnetic pull that my elusive quarry feels to go to the river, to go NOW. The feeling that something special awaits me there; uncertain, challenging, and quite possibly rewarding beyond comparison. The pull is strong, a feeling deep in my soul to GO, to feel the pull of the current on my line, to feel the electric jolt of a steelhead as it races away with my fly. That pull is what compels me to feel the total envelopment of the river, commanding all my senses to coalesce into tight singular focus on my fly as it swims through its currents, seams, and swirls; to BECOME that fly, carefully and meticulously navigating the river. Swerving this way and that, methodically down the river; this glorious river and it's beautiful currents. This time it's not just any river, but a very special one.

The river that pulls me from my slumber this early in the morning is a river that flows wild and free, from all of it's headwaters to the sea, every drop of rain that falls in this majestic basin flows unimpeded to the ocean. The rains here fall from the sky in impressive dark storms, dripping off the countless needles of massive redwood trees, seeping through the mossy rocks and trickling down every little ditch and gully; all pouring into the emerald and blue waters of three major rivers; eventually merging and flowing united as a mighty river, deep, wide and powerful. To those like me, these wild free flowing rivers are a rare treasure; few and far between in our modern developing world, and as such are cherished like the sparkling gems they are.

I've had a fascination and love of this little corner of the world for many years, and have spent countless days exploring the wild rugged canyons that this river, and it's various forks have cut and carved. It has pulled me back time and again to marvel at it's mystic beauty. Still, even with all those days I've spent here and the myriad of memories I've retained from my adventures here, I still feel a bit of a stranger here, like I've really only dabbled around the edges a bit. Legend has it that there are still mysterious creatures that roam these mountains. While I'm not typically the superstitious type, this is the kind of place where I wouldn't be too surprised to find that there are many secrets still held. The giant trees, forests of oversized ferns, huge boulders, and impenetrable canyons surely contain plenty of mystery and legend, and it's hard to say just how many secrets are yet to be revealed...and then perhaps (probably) there are some that we will never fully understand. I find the idea that there will always be some mystery in the world to be both comforting and encouraging; encouraging me to explore and ponder more, knowing that I'll never be done learning and that I'll always have questions... and surprises. I think that just might be it, the source of the pull; the curious, seeking, questioning, hopeful mindset that is eager to see just what I might experience this time... this very moment in time.

It's understandable, but still odd how this river, this specific river, has such a pull to me. In a way all rivers have a certain hold on me, and create a mixture of emotion that contains both comfortable familiarity in it's currents and swirls, combined with eternal mystery as to what is around the next bend, or the next day. Rivers have always been special places to me, but some really have a stronger magic to them... and this one, this one has me fully in the pull of it's currents. The irony is hardly lost on me, how my quest has become almost mirror like to the journey of the very creatures I am chasing. I'm sometimes hopeful that this means that I'm in the beginnings of learning to think like a fish, that somehow I'm immersing myself in their world and their way of thinking and living. Of course I am not, I'm a human being with very fortunate circumstances when I compare my world to that of the steelhead. My life is not inherently tied to the water like them, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that part of me is envious (at least a little) of this part of their existence. Their lives spent in these sparkling waters, climbing and journeying back to the mountains from the sea; back home to the sacred waters of their birthplace, their destiny. Maybe that's why I'm really here after all, maybe these steelhead are simply guiding me back home too... in a way. If not home, then to a place in my heart and soul where things seem to connect and make more sense than anywhere else, places where I belong. Maybe it's their incredible journey that inspires me to be near them, to follow in my own humble way with my own pilgrimage into the heart of these wild untamed canyons.

Then again perhaps it's the electric, almost violent pull of one of these powerful creatures on the end of my line that brings me here. That energy, flowing like electrons up through the line to my bare fingertips, pulsating in my arms and charging my heart. It's not so far fetched really, when I feel the thudding of my heartbeat racing faster and harder, there's no question that I've been energized by the power and beauty of that steelhead. Watching one jump into my world, out of the flow of the rivers current, twisting and flipping in the air high above the surface of water, I can feel my heart surge even more. Is it just the power of this fish, or is it their beauty and grace, fine and honed like an athlete, that is so invigorating and energizing? In part I think it's both, and I think it's the knowledge that I've touched something rare and special, found a way to connect with a mythical creature that does not come about just any day. Regardless of my inability to contain, define, explain, or even justify this pull, I feel it just as strongly as ever now... and I'm compelled to follow it to it's source, wherever I may find it.

I've drained the last of my coffee, and after stuffing my pen and pad in with all my soft warm bedding I'll be on the road again. Following the mysterious pull, allowing it to guide my hands on the wheel, and pressing my foot down on the gas. I'm on my way, feeling more alive than ever. I'm coming closer and closer, and it's getting stronger, the pull. Although still very far, I'll be there soon, so soon I can taste it, feel it. I'm almost there, I'm almost home.
JB

**itsbenlong** · 01-07-2013, 01:53 PM

Thanks for the great reading material! I couldn't have said it better myself!!!

**TaylerW** · 01-07-2013, 05:56 PM

I love the smith

**Terry Thomas** · 01-07-2013, 08:18 PM

Great read! I imagined many pictures of canyons, rivers and the "steel" that swim within.

**mems** · 01-07-2013, 10:51 PM

Nice read, good way to explain the desire to be connected. There are some fanatical fisheries, each with its own draw and group of crazy fishermen. Tarpon, big fish. Bonefish the stalk and the explosion. East Coast, surf and cold water blitzes. I think Steelheaders are about as crazy as they come, you captured the essence of that experience. thanks, Mems.

**JGB** · 01-08-2013, 08:00 AM

JB-

Nice, thanx.

Gonna go talk to She-Who Must-Be-Obeyed right now for a hall pass.

JGB

**JasonB** · 01-08-2013, 09:06 AM

Cool! Thought these forums could use a more mellow post or two, glad I didn't put everyone to sleep and that some of you could relate. Good luck on that hall pass JGB, I have one coming just trying to figure out when I want to "redeem it".
JB

**gitt** · 01-08-2013, 08:18 PM

Pen to pad even for that early in the morning. Impressive. Some suffer insomnia the night before a big trip in anticipation. You took full advantage of it.

But, "Following the mysterious pull, allowing it to guide my hands on the wheel, and pressing my foot down on the gas." The Click and Clack Brothers would suggest an alignment ASAP if it was a constant pull to one side or another.

Nice read. Thanks for sharing.