While I’ve been sticking close to home for the last year or so, I keep hearing that I’m pretty much the only one. Reports from rivers across the West, ranging from the Frying Pan in Colorado, to Idaho’s South Fork of the Snake, to the Madison right here in Montana, are all in agreement. There are more fly fishers on the water than ever before.
According to Angling Trade editor Kirk Deeter, writing in the pages of the fly fishing industry’s go-to publication, a lot of us “are absolutely mortified by the crowds, the pressure, and the overall degradation of the on-the-water experience we saw last season. Read the message boards. Look at the threads. We’re in a spot where some lovers of this sport are ready to throw their hands up and walk away, and the newbies are also having gag-reactions to their first impressions, because of the circus atmosphere.”
And Kirk is not the only one sounding the alarm. Pretty much every fly fisher I talk to these days has a tale (or eight) of showing up at their favorite stretch of water only to find a horde of other anglers looking to target the exact same spot. Even the NY Times took note with a story bearing the ominous title: “Pandemic Crowds Bring ‘Rivergeddon’ to Montana’s Rivers.”
The Times piece went on to note: “As urbanites flock to forests and rivers to escape coronavirus threats, trailheads are cramped with parked cars and fishing on the Madison River is like a Disneyland ride.”
If the reports are to be believed — and it doesn’t sound like we have much choice but to accept this new reality — then the recent influx of angling pressure has not only equaled, but surpassed, the huge bump that fly fishing experienced back in the early ‘90s after Robert Redford released his cinematic version of “A River Runs Through It.”
Which leaves us with a question with no easy or obvious answer. What are we supposed to do?
Well, first things first. We need to stop focusing on the positive. When someone new to fly fishing asks you what you love about our sport, do what comes naturally to every angler. Lie. Only instead of adding an inch to every brook trout you land, or a pound to your latest smallmouth bass, get a little more creative.
Tell new anglers that fly fishing is an irritating, impossible-to-master activity dominated far more by its major and long-lasting disappointments than by its minor and transitory triumphs.
Admit that you’ve grown to love the sound of mosquitoes buzzing in your ear.
Explain that you derive a certain visceral pleasure from traveling halfway across the country and not catching any fish.
Confess your preference for outdoor activities that mimic a Walmart parking lot on a hot summer afternoon.
Open up about your ongoing attraction to waterproof pants.
Wax poetic about the fact that fly fishing is more expensive than yachting, and harder to master than gymnastics, and more challenging than quantum physics.
Then share a quote or two from the experts. And no, I’m not talking about Arnold Gingrich opining that “a trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who seek it,” or Jim Harrison’s profound “I stare into the deepest pool of the river which holds the mystery of a cellar to a child, and think of those two track roads that dwindle into nothing in the forest. I have this feeling of walking around for days with the wind knocked out of me.”
Instead, offer up A.K. Best’s honest assessment that “the fishing was good; it was the catching that was bad.” Or John Gierach’s timeless observation that “creeps and idiots cannot conceal themselves for long on a fishing trip.” Or even Steven Wright’s classic “there's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.”
The goal here is simple. Throw cold water on the newcomers to our sport. Extinguish every tiny ember of angling passion that exists in the depths of their collective souls, and direct them to a more attractive and worthwhile pastime.
Checkers, maybe. Or perhaps crosswords puzzles.
Now if I had to make a bet, I’d wager that right now you’re asking yourself whether I’m serious about any of this. And the answer, of course, is that no, I’m not. In the grand scheme of things, more folks on the water is a positive development. Why? Well, mostly because we need the American public to steward and protect our rivers, lakes and streams, and it should be obvious that more anglers means more people joining conservation groups like Trout Unlimited and Fly Fishers International. In many, many cases, anglers are the last bastion between healthy rivers and degraded rivers, or between lakes with fish and lakes with none. Now more than ever, we need to swell the ranks of conservation advocates.
At the same time, though, we can not, and should not, ignore overcrowding. It’s a serious problem. None of us want to show up at the river first thing in the morning to find 43 boats in line ahead of us. Nor do we want to arrive at the trailhead to our favorite backcountry angling experience to learn that a dozen other folks are hiking into the exact same spot. So it’s incumbent upon each of us to come up with ways to make the current situation — this apparently inescapable swelling of our angling ranks — more tenable for everyone involved.
I’ve thought long and hard on this subject, and while there are any number of rules and regulations that, depending on location and circumstance, might prove helpful, there is also one overriding principle that I feel confident in recommending.
If you open up a King James Bible to Matthew 7:12, you’ll find the following words:
“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you: do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.”
Depending on your familiarity and comfort with the language, that particular verse may make a ton of sense, or it may sound dated, arcane or perhaps even unintelligible. And yet, in its more colloquial form, Matthew 7:12 is known the world-over. Even those of you who aren’t all that familiar with the Bible will have heard of “The Golden Rule.”
It’s really pretty simple. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Or, more plainly yet, treat people the way that you’d like to be treated.
When you’re out on the water and it’s a little crowded — or more than a little crowded — look around and put yourself in the other anglers’ shoes. How much space do they need? Which direction are they heading? What style are they employing? Ask those questions of yourself, along with any others that seem germane, and then react accordingly. If we all adhere to the Golden Rule and treat others like we hope to be treated, then we can minimize any shared inconvenience and maximize our collective enjoyment.
None of us know what the future is going to bring. We can’t say for certain whether recent crowding on the water will prove temporary, or whether we’ll need to adjust to a new normal as the siren call of the great outdoors continues to pull more and more people back to nature. But we can all commit to making the best of the current situation, and to cutting each other a little extra slack in these uncertain times. Let’s all act with as much mutual consideration, and as much grace, as we can individually and collectively muster.
Some years ago I came across a few words from Ralph Waldo Emerson that seem particularly apropos at times like this.
“To the dull mind nature is leaden. To the illuminated mind the whole world burns and sparkles with light.”
I like to think that if we roll out the welcome wagon for folks who are new to our sport, and if we treat everyone on the water the way we’d like to be treated, then perhaps we’ll all see the light.