I spotted this abandoned boat yesterday morning, moored on a small creek in Westport, CT. A name displayed on the bow was carefully written in simple block letters…GLORIA. Captivating in its stillness with not a soul in sight, it instilled a feeling of both peace and melancholy. Returning home I researched to discover the boat was owned by a gentleman who lived his entire life in Westport and worked as an oyster fisherman aboard the vessel. The boat was both his work and home, when weather permitted. “Gloria” was the name of an old girlfriend who clearly left a mark on his heart. He passed away recently yet the barge remains, a testament to earlier days and a time long gone. This past Christmas, an unknown angel strung festive lights on the boat in memory of the late fisherman. It must have been a beautiful sight. I wonder if Gloria ever knew she was his muse?
My husband was first introduced to the sport of fly-fishing as a boy while visiting his aunt at the fittingly named “Trout Club.” From the moment he first cast, he was hooked. I never tire of watching him as the line weaves back and forth in flight, landing effortlessly on the water, mimicking a may fly touching down. He began to tie his own flies shortly after, a true craft in itself, fascinating to watch. When my son was in third grade, he had a special teacher who was a fly fisherman. I asked my husband to make him a home-made fly as a teacher gift and my son presented it to him at the end of the year in a tidy white box. A gift from the heart. The design of feathers, combined with precise tying and gluing make this a hobby of precision. The result, when examined is indeed intricate in design. I have photographed below a series of flies, both store-bought and home-made for this week’s challenge.
“Fishing is the chance to wash one’s soul with pure air. It brings meekness and inspiration, reduces our egoism, soothes our troubles and shames our wickedness. It is discipline in the equality of men–for all men are equal before fish.”
“The gods do not deduct from man’s allotted span the hours spent in fishing.”
There is nothing quite like the feeling of catching your first fish as displayed in my son’s expression. Feeling that little tug and then the exhilaration of reeling it in is indeed a great reward. This little fish was released after our quick photo op.