Why I Fish
by Nick Walker

From my perspective, I was fortunate to have grown up around water. My childhood home was on the shores of Crystal Lake in Newton, Massachusetts. Newton is a densely populated suburb of Boston and by no means is Crystal Lake what one might imagine it to be. There was a subway track that ran parallel to one side and public parks on the other. I do not recall a day when there was not trash washed up on shore. But one thing I do recall is that there were fish in Crystal Lake, and for reasons that are beyond explanation, I became fascinated with them at a very early age. For years I spent every waking hour that I was not in school or at piano practice exploring Crystal Lake with a fishing rod in hand. During the long winter months when the ice hid the water from me, I read as many books about fish and water as I could get my hands on.

By the time I was eight, I had a tackle box so big and so full that I could barely carry it. I angled for bass, perch, pickerel and bluegill. When I was twelve, I got my first fly rod, part of the L.L. Bean beginner's kit, which came complete with a reel and neon orange line. I taught myself to cast, and eventually was able to present a fly to feeding rainbow, brook, and brown trout, which I caught in streams as far away as Arizona and the United Kingdom. When I was 14, I would get up at 6 AM and go fishing for two hours before my algebra class, which commenced at 8. At the age of 16, I passed my drivers-test and the first thing I did was buy a roof rack, followed shortly thereafter with the purchase of a canoe. I paddled tirelessly on the Sudbury and Charles Rivers. At 18, I hiked for two weeks in Wyoming's Wind River Range, often tired, famished and cold, just for the chance to cast to golden trout in virgin waters. During my college years in upstate New York, I spent time between classes catching 40-inch muskellunge on live frogs in the dark, amber stained waters of the Grasse River. My life outside of school, family and friends revolved around the pursuit of fish.

My love of the sport of fishing transcends any logical explanation. People often ask me to explain my passion, and time after time I am left searching for a simple response, only to find myself at an utter loss for words. My father does not fish. In fact, there is not one person in my entire extended family that could be considered an angler at all, even in the loosest interpretation of the word. This is something that surprises most, given that in many cases the art of fishing is passed from one generation to the next, from father to son, or from uncle to nephew. How then might I justify my desire to cast endlessly into a body of water, anticipating patiently the feeling of energetic resistance that accompanies a hooked fish?

I have pondered this question for years and although a clear and definitive answer has proved elusive, I have some idea as to why I am drawn to the sport. One reason that I cherish my time on the water so much is that it provides me with an opportunity to enjoy my own company, which in my fast-paced life is rarely possible in any other setting. I enjoy others' company very much, whether it's at the office or at home with my friends, but there are times when a moment spent in solitude can add a different element to one's thinking, and I covet those moments. The act of reflection is paramount to personal growth. I have done some of my most profound thinking and made some of my most significant decisions while paddling purposefully across the glassy surface of a lake at dusk.

Fishing, aside from being an activity that eases my mind, also sharpens it and I learn something with each new experience. Through failure, I strengthen my resolve, and by pushing my patience to the limit, I never stop learning. I have caught thousands of fish in my life and a great number of those have been different species, each requiring different skills, yet I continuously seek new ways to improve upon those skills. I dream of catching tarpon in the Florida Keys, bonefish in the Seychelles Islands and peacock bass in the Amazon basin. The challenges that lay ahead are limitless, and I know my fishing acumen is only a fraction of what it will become. I use this notion as inspiration to never stop moving forward in my quest to become better at what I do.

To be sure, fishing is one of my hobbies, but it is more than that. It enhances the virtues of patience and determination, and these virtues spill over into other aspects of my life, ultimately strengthening my character. Quitting my bed at 5 AM on a Sunday morning in search of trout has taught me discipline. It is this same discipline that allows me to rise at 5 AM on a holiday in order to fix a trade problem overseas or stay at the office until midnight to make sure my work has no loose ends. Because of this I have never, and will never, regret my time spent on the water.

-- NW

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