I’ve tried, and failed, to explain my deep and inner passion for Spey casting for steelhead. A journey that rarely ends in success – by the arbitrary angling standard of catching fish.
Spey casting for steelhead on my favorite Oregon streams is rumored to take 80 angling hours per fish. Even if this number comes with a fisherman‘s brag, you get the idea. And here’s the kicker: I don’t even keep my catch.
I’ll reiterate.
I stand in the water, wave a 13-foot stick over my head for 80 + hours, and immediately release the fish I bring to hand.
What I know is I love it.
What I don’t know is why?
This week my love of fishing for fish I rarely catch gained more clarity from a term I’d never heard before.
FOREST BATHING
The intentional practice of connecting with nature and surrounding yourself with the energy of the natural world or taking in the forest through our senses. Simply being in nature, connecting with it through our senses of sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch.*
I love a good forest, on my way to a great fishing hole. That’s right. A forest bath is good, but it’s a steelhead bath that truly cleanses my senses, and restores my soul.
Sight. Nearly everything my eyes touch on a steelhead trip enriches. A rising sun, a flowing stream, a low fog, and the dime bright side of a fish dancing downstream.
Sound. Running water alone captures my favorite sound, but when layered with a light breeze, leaves under feet, waterfowl heading south, it’s unmatched by any Spotify playlist.
Smell. Juniper in the high desert, western hemlock on the coast, and even a skunk cabbage I picked for Linsey not knowing it’s olfactory powers. A new meditation practice has me breathing deeper between casts, with a new appreciation for each breath.
Touch. A cork fly rod handle, wetted fly line, weary legs, boulder laden river bottom, and the slippery scales of a fish capture the feels that bring me back time and time again.
Taste. Yeah… umm…. taste. I’d like to make something up here, but other than leftover coffee and some beef jerky, I can’t truly recall my a steelhead bath doing much for my sense of taste. Maybe someday.
A Steelhead Bath.
Rich in sight, smell, hearing, touch and lacking taste. For years, I've recognized the healthier, happier me after a visit to the steelhead stream, but I have never cataloged the sensory response this journey provides each and every time.
I fished this morning. I didn’t catch a fish, it didn’t matter, and I’m just beginning to understand why.
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*my ad hoc definition from a handful of google searches.