Fly Fishing Isn't About Fishing

A weekend adventure on the stream.

Aaron Aalto

May 26, 2023

They say the best fishing stories aren't even about fishing at all. And this weekend, I discovered what that means.

Some years ago, I stumbled upon "Live the Stream," a documentary about a fly fisherman that sparked a desire to learn more about the skill. Yet, life happened, time flew, and the opportunity eluded me until one day I found myself driving seven hours from Brooklyn, New York to Bradford, Pennsylvania. My mission? To learn fly fishing from the subject of the documentary himself the legendary 94-year-old Joe Humphreys.

Joe Humphrey’s holding a record-setting brown trout

When I arrived, I met my new companions for this journey, my newfound friends, who were 30 to 50 years my senior. Their passion for fishing painted their conversations, giving our talks a singularly charming flavor. One friend even told me about a stroke he’d experienced while he was fishing. He’d seen death square in the eye and didn’t flinch. A real-life Superman. He managed to drive himself home. Amazed I clung to every word he spoke. How I ended up here? It was a simple twist of fate.

Over an intensive weekend, I discovered the allure of fly fishing — a craft attracting enthusiasts to the cold waters beloved by trout. I’d never experienced something like this. It wasn't just about the fish but the people I met, the stories exchanged, and the camaraderie nurtured. I had found my people. All this I now carry within me.

Different from bait fishing, fly fishing involves an artificial fly, a lure for the trout that thrive in these cold waters. For me, this marriage of nature and sport was captivating. I had fished before but not like this. Fly fishing demanded thinking and an understanding of the streams, knowledge of the local insect life, and an appreciation of the environment.

Those three days were a whirlpool of learning, laughter, and newfound friendship. The experienced fly fishers generously shared their wisdom, eagerly showing me how to tie my flies, and offering advice on casting while reminding me of the importance of patience, rhythm, practice, and subtlety.

Their generosity was a testament to the power of a shared love for a craft that binds a community, a secret society of sorts, with an unending flow of knowledge and communion.

Lessons were abundant on and off the stream. The first day, watching Joe Humphrys not catch a fish was an unexpectedly valuable lesson. His patience, study, and readiness to adapt underlined the idea that defeat is as instructive as success.

Speckled Trout, from the series Fishers and Fish (N74) for Duke brand cigarettes. 1888

During the second day, despite the growing impatience of some, I observed and learned from Joe's steadfastness. He keeps going. He adjusts. He moves. When he finally landed a brown trout, the euphoria was palpable. We had seen the maestro catch a fish.

Then it was my turn. Hours of casting and moving along the stream were met with no success. Yet, despite aching muscles and the ticking clock, I decided to continue, changing my fly to a woolly bugger that I'd tied myself. I adjusted my position in the water and cast again. My persistence paid off as I felt the tug. Initially, I thought I’d caught a rock or a log, but not this time. Landing my first trout was an unforgettable, surreal experience, filling me with a quiet euphoria. I’ll never forget the lessons I learned at the stream.

Photo was taken by my instructor as I hold my first brown trout.

The magic of fly fishing is that it's more than a sport, more than a leisurely pursuit. It's about the people you meet, the friendships you forge, and the life lessons you learn at the stream. I can hardly wait to be in the water again. 🎣