The Drift: When You’ve Caught Enough Fish

A few weeks ago, I read a news story about the goings-on over on the North Platte River in Wyoming. One of the guides quoted in the story said something to the effect of, “You used to have 40-to-50 fish days here, but no one needs that.”

My immediate reaction was, “Who are you to tell me what I do and don’t need? I’ll decide that for myself, thanks.” But as I thought about the guide’s quote, and what I think he meant, I realized I probably agree with him more than I initially thought.

There’s nothing wrong with 40-to-50 fish days, provided you’re not standing over a redd, and that you’re practicing proper catch-and-release tactics. Shoot, there are a few streams not far from my house where you can put 30 fish in the net in an afternoon. A full day up there would probably put you close to 60. They’re all five to six-inch rainbows, but a fish is a fish.

In all honesty, though, I don’t remember the last time I caught that many fish in a day. I’ve had some 20-fish days this year—almost all of them on those creeks by my house— but if I had to stick a number on it, I’ve probably averaged around a dozen per day in the net. I used to take detailed notes on all my catches for fish journals, and a quick glance through them shows a lot of days of four to six fish, so at least I’ve progressed a bit over the years.

What’s interesting, though, is that while I’m thinking back on this year’s fishing, it’s not so much the number of fish that stands out to me. It’s where I caught them, and how. Curt Gowdy said once that anglers go through a sort of progression: at first, they want to catch as many fish as possible; then, they want to focus on big fish; finally, they’ll settle into catching a certain fish a certain way. Each phase along that journey equally scratches that itch that drives us fishing in the first place.

I don’t think Gowdy meant his progression to be strictly linear. If it were, there wouldn’t be days when I’m content with one nice cutthroat on a dry fly, and others where I just want to see how many I can catch on the battered Adams I found in my truck’s cupholder. Generally speaking, though, I find myself not worrying so much about numbers and size as I do about the opportunity to catch fish the way I enjoy most.

And just to be clear—I’m not sitting on some high horse, lecturing to the peasants about your obsession with catching tons of trout. Go ahead and catch a bunch. Keep a few for dinner, while you’re at it. Those days when fish eat on every cast are part of what binds us to this sport, and we need as many ardent trout bums as we can muster.

I’m simply noticing a change in how I enjoy and approach a day on the water, a change I never expected. I’m not sure if it means I’m plateauing as an angler, if I need to drive myself to improve (and heaven knows my casting alone could stand a good bit of refinement), or what. All I know is, last week the difference was pronounced enough that it found its way into this column.

My friend Gene invited me to fish on Wednesday, so I drove the hour to his place, loaded up the boat, and we left the ramp just after 9 a.m. He’d invited another angler along, an older gentleman who had the enthusiasm of someone half his age. Throughout the day, he deliberately and thoroughly fished every run and every pool, flinging his nymph rig through all the fishy water, and most of the places I didn’t think would hold a fish.

Meanwhile, I scanned the water for rising trout, and was content to drift through the shallower runs without casting. This river is a mossy mess, even this late in the year, and picking grass off my nymphs isn’t my idea of a good day on the water.

The older fisherman kept plugging away, and not only did he catch the most fish, but he put a gorgeous brown trout in the net, too. I caught one five-inch rainbow on a dry fly, a handful on nymphs, and one that took me for a ride and tried to lose me in some roots.

When it was clear the hatch wasn’t going to bring fish to the surface, and we had another mile of so-so water in front of us, I clipped off my flies, sat back, and enjoyed the float. I’d caught enough fish, felt happy with the day, and would rather relax than deal with picking moss off my flies for another hour.

The older fisherman put a handful of trout in the boat in that last hour, including another nice brown trout right at the boat ramp.

The difference in our approaches to the same day of fishing made that guide’s comments come back to mind. No one needs to catch 40-to-50 fish a day. Sure, no one needs that because nobody needs to go fly fishing, on a biological level. But some anglers are driven by that desire to see what happens next, while others, I reckon, are more interested in experiencing something specific.

And on that day, the older fisherman and I came away from the river having achieved exactly what we wanted.