Where Divinity Begins

As the trail turns away from the stream, I pull out the fly rod. Eyelet by eyelet, I feed the fly line through. I tie on a size 18-caddis pattern, based on past experiences with streams like this, small mountainous streams that seemingly tumble from the heavens as if God himself were bathing in the headwaters. The trail was smooth. It followed the course of the stream, which was through a gentle, welcoming meadow. The tall grasses made the stream hidden from the eye but not from the ears. Its soft voice could be heard as I made my way through the meadow. The stream whispers in my ear: “You aren’t alone”, even though there are no other fishermen or people around for miles. The trail abandoned the stream as the terrain got steeper. A trail has to worry about others, the hikers and sightseers that frequent the mountains. The trail wants the fastest and easiest way to reach its destination. This means obstacles must be avoided. The stream however has no such concerns. It can flow as it likes, fast or slow, and where it likes canyons or meadows.  The stream makes its way into the meadow after flowing through a small yet forbidding canyon. The trail has to take the high ground and can do nothing but look down on the stream from the steep canyon walls. The trail will not reunite with the stream. The canyon is pocket water. The water tumbles over and around rocks and behind most of those rocks is a pool or pocket of slower, safer water. It is a place to roam in search of nymphs, stoneflies, and in this case a size 18 caddis fly. The pockets all have fish, it is just a matter of getting the cast and the drift right. Thankfully on these small mountain streams, especially ones of higher altitudes, the fish are eager to take a fly. That is not to say that they are dumb, just not accustomed to being caught or to the ways with which the fisherman catches them. Near the top of the canyon, the stream cascades over a ten-foot fall. A sight heard long before actually seeing the waterfall. The cool spray from the falls soothes my sun-worn skin. This is the end of the line for me, as the canyon walls and cascading falls make for an abrupt end to my journey. As to what lies above the falls is to be decided by later trips, but I am sure that somewhere above those falls is where divinity begins.