“You see, urban folk somehow assume that things are supposed to go perfectly for them at all times: schedules must be met, expectations must be fulfilled, comfort must be maintained. Consequently, they’re aggravated beyond all reason by any little mistake or delay. But, rural people understand that life is basically a dangerous, unmanageable mess, so that when things go wrong, their suspicions are confirmed and it’s just a blessing no one was killed. When things occasionally go right, they’re delighted. Whatever happens, they have a comfortable grasp on reality, not to mention an ironclad work ethic.
“Well,’’ a guy will say as he stands up from his third cup of coffee, “I won’t get it done sittin’ here.”
He’s right. It’s 10 degrees out, the sun is almost up and the morning is half gone already.”
These are the words of John Gierach, found in his book Standing in a River Waving a Stick.
I thought of my grandfather, and all of the summers of my childhood, as the screen door slammed behind him, waking me every morning at dawn. He was headed to the barn, wearing rubber boots, with a slop pail in one hand, he went first to the pig shed, before the dairy barn and the milking.
My brother and I spent a lot of our days at the farm in the meadow following the brook to the deep hole, and beyond, fishing for trout. No fancy rods, just a stick and a hook baited with worms dug from the rich earth behind the pig pen. And, we caught fish!
Looking for a low impact outdoor activity a few years ago, I decided to take up fishing again. I took fly fishing lessons one spring and I immediately understood the appeal. Fly fishing is a quiet activity, with cellphones left behind, the only sounds are the water and the birds. And the absolute concentration and relaxation of casting a fly.
Reading John Gierach’s book, Standing in a River Waving a Stick, at the cottage last week, I found complete escape from the stresses of both pandemic and fire. I knew only the peaceful surroundings of the places the author spent his time fishing, and I found solace in his words of wisdom, humour, and kindness.
I also realized that fly fishing is, of course, the perfect pandemic activity. On my first fly fishing lesson I asked the instructor how far one should be from other fishermen, as everyone on the river seemed to keep their distance. The etiquette is apparently that one leaves at least 100 yards of space. This prevents anyone from being within casting range of another fisherman, but it also leaves more than enough space for today’s social distancing requirements.
John Gierach lives in Colorado and has been writing for newspapers and magazines about all things fly-fishing for all of his adult life. He holds a degree in philosophy and English and it shows in his writing. His stories may be about fly fishing, but they are so, so much more. Standing in a River Waving a Stick is the first book by John Gierach that I have read, but I’ll be ordering all of the others, to keep me both entertained and grounded during this strange summer of 2020.
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