Seeing Myself

Editor's Note, August 9, 7:47 AM - After reviewing comments, it appears I missed the mark when I wrote this.  The Fading Angler Blog is a NO WHINING zone.  This is not meant to be a tale of woe.  It's a story of a bit of struggle, followed by some unexpected redemption.  I'm always trying to improve faster than I'm decaying.  Sometimes Parkinson's Disease wins the battle, but I'm still winning the war.

It's not often we get a good look at ourselves.  That passing glance in the mirror in the morning is an illusion of a reflection.  I'm talking about the kind of vision where you're actually able to see yourself for what you are, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Sometimes it's a health crisis that brings things into focus, and sometimes it's simply the focus of a camera lens held by another person.

When I fished with Dan Milligan of Blackfoot River Outfitters last Friday, I had a really lousy casting day.  I couldn't seem to get my body to manipulate the rod and line the way I wanted to.  Dan gently made suggestions all day, but I'm pretty sure he thought I was ignoring him.  I was trying, but I was frustrated and tangled up in my head as well.  I am thankful that I've nearly shed any feelings of pride or embarrassment when it comes to casting.  I am what I am.  I do what I can, including trying to get better.  And, no matter how ugly or dysfunctional my casting looks, I am getting strikes and catching fish.  I care less and less what other people think of my ugly form and amateurish technique.

I did feel bad for Dan, though.  He endured this ugliness for hours.  One thing he repeated several times throughout the day was, "Try to keep your elbow down."  I tried, but felt no success.  I felt like I failed him.  But it turns out that he gave me a better gift that any piece of casting advice: photographs.

Opportunity Knocks Twice, Part III-and-a-Half: Pride and Parkinson's

I’ve never been proud of my fly angling skills.  In fact, I’ve always been rather embarrassed when someone who knows how to work a fly rod is forced to endure the unholy sight of my efforts to cast a flyline.  I dread having an expert see me laughingly “cast” a fly rod.  In a quantum nightmare, The Little Voices in my head start shouting all of the possible criticisms that might be going through said expert’s mind:  “This guy’s hopeless.”  “He’s actually caught fish?”  “That’s the worst use I’ve ever seen for a fly rod.”  “Reverend Maclean is rolling in his grave.”  “He’d be better off taking up knitting.”  And while I profess not to be “proud,” it’s pure pride that makes me want to hide my deficiencies.

So, let’s do a little non-mathematical calculating:

1. Parkinson’s Disease: progressive, degenerative neurological condition that (among MANY other things) affects muscular control.  This is making me stiff & shaky, affecting my balance, and making it increasingly difficult to cast a flyline with my right hand
2. I refuse to give up fly angling yet.  It’s part of my identity and good for me in many ways
3. I’m embarrassed to have other people watch me cast a fly rod
4. If my skills don’t improve at least as fast as my ability decays, I might not be fishing much longer.

Solution: Pride must be abandoned.  And not just for fishing.

I took a quick trip last weekend to the border regions of Montana and Wyoming near Sheridan, WY and Fort Smith, MT.  I had a singleminded goal for the trip:  improve my fly angling skills.  My highest priority was to improve my lefthanded casting abilities.  Next was paying attention to the details of two waters I’d never fished before:  the Big Horn River north of Fort Smith, and Piney Creek south of Sheridan.  I got connected with Clark Smyth of Rock Creek Anglers to float a few miles of the Big Horn River in his Adipose drift boat (technically, a skiff…)  When I first talked to Clark, I let him know that I have PD and that I’ve just switched over to casting with my left arm.  I described my “abilities” and told him my goal for the trip.  “I’m here to help,” is what he said, and he repeated it several times during the trip.