Claude’s secret but likely identifiable fishing spot

My first Sunday in Ashton, Claude, the Washington and Lee Intern, did me the great kindness of taking me fly fishing for the first time in my entire life. I am not in any way an experienced angler. I’ve caught one fish in my entire life. I can’t identify it, and I only caught it with the help of my vastly more experienced little brother. Upon arriving here, it immediately became clear that my utter lack of angling experience simply would not do, and I had to correct it. So I pulled on my waders, crammed my feet into my boots, and got ready to begin my learning journey.

Though I can’t fish to save my life, I love the water. My family has called me a “creek chub” my entire life due to my affinity for swimming in the winding, spring-fed Arkansas creeks in my mom’s hometown. Growing up, you’d have to basically drag me out of the water—and that didn’t mean the battle was over. I was slippery. I’d jump back in if you turned your head for even the smallest second. And I love fish. In the crystal clear creek water, I’d float on my back and watch the sunfish, bluegills, northern hogsuckers, and, if I got really lucky, spotted gar pass by underneath me.

You might think this fish passion would give me a natural talent for angling. You would be dead wrong. My first time fly fishing, I really made a fool of myself and almost no progress was made. I was accompanied not only by Claude, but three of his Washington and Lee friends who are also interning in the area. They served as a peanut gallery for my failure. I was whipping my fly around in the air like a maniac. I knew nothing about mends, drift, how to hold my arms, or anything else. Claude and his friends fished with much better technique. I felt like a fool. I don’t even know if I used those words right. It’s safe to say I caught no fish.

Though I caught no fish, my first time fly fishing was far from valueless. Where we were on the river was beautiful (at Claude’s request, I’m not giving up his fishing spot). I saw a rainbow (in the sky, not a trout) and a lot of cool birds. The sunset turned the water gold. Half the sky was a deep, dark, stormy gray. But the sights weren’t the only perk. Claude’s friends, though they initially seemed skilled, stoic, and possibly judgmental, were actually more than willing to help a poor soul like me slowly but surely improve. They were kind and understanding, and I even made plans with one of them to fly fish later. Since then, Claude has really done a lot to improve my skills. I’m still bad, but getting better. Though I caught no fish, my time on the river showed me the beauty of this place I have the privilege of spending the summer in, the community I now have access to, and the knowledge and assistance that they’re kind enough to give me. I caught no fish, but I was very happy and more comfortable in the world I found myself in.

I have caught no fish. But mark my words, by the end of the summer, I will. My next blog post will be a triumphant one, and I’ll be holding a trout.