After 45 years of fishing, I believe I can say the same as Socrates when it comes to this art - "I know that I know nothing."
I believe that the trout will favor a Hare's Ear or Pheasant Tail Nymph offering. But, whether they will indeed eat it, I often find that I know that I know nothing.
I also believe when there is a strong wind to my back I can make a circle cast and my line and fly will go easily forward. But, whether the fly lands on spot-on target, I know that I know nothing.
Today on the creek I believed I could take a fly designed to capture the grand golden ones, and thus capture perch and bass. The perch came forward, but, the bass did not - therefore I know that I know nothing.
Knowing I know that I know nothing is part of the lure and mystique of fly-fishing. It is what keeps me returning to the water time after time. It has become the most passionate part of a varied outdoor life, and quite honestly the one thing that keeps me from deteriorating into an enthusiastic-void piece of flesh and bones.
Sometimes just sitting on a rock by the creek is nice. Sometimes sitting on a sandy shoal by the creek is nice. It gives us a chance to soak up a panoramic frame of nature's view.
Sometimes just sitting on a rock or sandy shoal gives us a chance to meet some of nature's children and marvel in the way they live.
Sometimes it nice to just let the rod rest while sitting on that rock or sandy shoal; look to the left or right and discover the vibrantly colored flower of a wild weed.
Sometimes it nice to just sit on a rock or sandy shoal and drink a cold beer, which I indeed did today.
And, sometimes it's just nice to sit on a rock or sandy shoal and take that drink of beer and look up. As you look up and the beer slides down you discover a baby blue sky with stretched cotton clouds - a sky void of utility lines, poles, or towers. Just pure sky.
And as we sit on that rock or sandy shoal and slowly lower the cold beer from our lips as our eyes are fixed on the pure sky above... we realize that it's not important that we know that we know nothing. It's not important because we will continue this quest called fly-fishing, on a continued discovery of closer connection with the outdoor world.
The grand golden ones swam by today, time after time, as I sit on the sandy shoal.
What a blessed life I live.