I’ve always had a keen eye for reading water. It’s probably my biggest strength as a fisherman. I’ll never claim to cast with ease or beauty. I don’t see fish particularly well. I can’t identify more than a dozen bugs, and that’s being awfully generous. “Ant” counts, right?
But I can read water. I can see where the fish are even if I can’t actually see the fish. There is no specific grand theory I put into practice to be able to do this. Instead, it’s countless little ones, all those bits and nuggets collected from dog-eared magazines and overheard around campfires. These have all found their way into my cluttered brain over the last twenty years and somehow they come rushing forward the moment I see water.
And yes, it’s that very moment. The first glimpse I get of a stream, river, creek or puddle, whether it’s approached quietly by trail in waders or if I’m zooming by in a car as the expressway crosses overhead. Heck, it’s half the fun I have in looking at pretty pictures.
The exact moment I see water, I always think, “Where are the fish?” I’ll stop on the trail or crane my neck from the passenger seat of a moving vehicle to find that fishy spot. If driving, I’ve been known to pull over even if my gear is a hundred miles away. I just like looking for fish.
Countless books and articles can be found to guide you through the basics of reading water, but time is the best teacher. And obsession doesn’t hurt the cause. Commit yourself to something crazy and you too can see bubble lines in your sleep, eye pools forming behind big boulders in your breakfast cereal, and imagine downed timber in the riffles of rain water running curbside after a big storm.
But I can read water. I can see where the fish are even if I can’t actually see the fish. There is no specific grand theory I put into practice to be able to do this. Instead, it’s countless little ones, all those bits and nuggets collected from dog-eared magazines and overheard around campfires. These have all found their way into my cluttered brain over the last twenty years and somehow they come rushing forward the moment I see water.
And yes, it’s that very moment. The first glimpse I get of a stream, river, creek or puddle, whether it’s approached quietly by trail in waders or if I’m zooming by in a car as the expressway crosses overhead. Heck, it’s half the fun I have in looking at pretty pictures.
The exact moment I see water, I always think, “Where are the fish?” I’ll stop on the trail or crane my neck from the passenger seat of a moving vehicle to find that fishy spot. If driving, I’ve been known to pull over even if my gear is a hundred miles away. I just like looking for fish.
Countless books and articles can be found to guide you through the basics of reading water, but time is the best teacher. And obsession doesn’t hurt the cause. Commit yourself to something crazy and you too can see bubble lines in your sleep, eye pools forming behind big boulders in your breakfast cereal, and imagine downed timber in the riffles of rain water running curbside after a big storm.
Labels: skills
Hughes' book is invaluable, in that it outlines the basic structures of running water and provides the terminology to converse about water.