Prop Scars, Social Media, Chinese Fly Reels & Cheap Whisky = Adventure Lost

You might be asking yourself what in the world prop scars, Chinese fly reels, social media, cheap whiskey and adventure lost have to do with each other. A lot more than you might think.

I recently spent a beautiful September day on the water in Texas with a fine guide and true gentleman, Scott Sommerlatte. I had never fished with Scott and had the opportunity because of a good friend, Adam Roark, who lives just blocks away from me but whom I met some years back in a bar during a rainy week with our wives in Belize. As we pulled away from the dock, I started taking pictures with my cell phone as I often do, and continued to snap shots as we skimmed across the water on that beautiful fall morning. After a few minutes of running, Scott stopped the boat and asked, “I’m not one to beat around the bush, so let me just ask, why are you taking so many pictures?” I realized that in our rush to get on the boat and get moving, I hadn’t properly introduced myself. I explained my association with Tail magazine and that I try to collect as many images as I can for the magazine and my own enjoyment. “Well,” he replied, “the last guy that took that many pictures took them home, pulled the embedded coordinates out of them and I found him out here fishing on his own the next day.” I assured Scott that I had no such intentions, and that I had far too much respect for local guides and their hard work to ever do such a thing.

The more Scott and I talked that day, the more I realized Scott and those like him are truly stalwarts of the sport, in a rapidly changing landscape. Like those who came before and mentored him, Scott is an explorer, creator, experimenter, developer and in some respects, a pioneer. My point here is not to advertise for Scott (although I do so happily). My point is that we grew up in a different time with a different set of norms: Before social media and the cheap modern GPS, and Google Earth, at a time when saltwater fly reels were hard to come by and cost more than just a couple of weekends of lawn mowing money. Because of my age at the time, cheap whiskey didn’t exist. We were either risking our hides sneaking it from somebody’s parents liquor cabinet or paying someone a premium to buy it for us. Prop scars were nearly non-existent on the Texas flats because there weren’t any boats that could get there. To find a new spot, we had to go to county seats and purchase maps, then get in our jon boat and go exploring for days or weeks until we found spots that yielded fish. We weren’t just proud of getting to a new spot and catching fish, we were proud of all the work that went into it. We have memories to recall, stories to tell, experiences to draw from and many lessons learned.  We camped out on mosquito-infested islands in the bay, abandoned beaches and even in jon boats. We got our cars and boats stuck and had to get them out ourselves since we didn’t have cell phones. We learned from personal experience, reading books and magazines or by asking people. We went to our local fishing store and talked to the guys there, hoping to learn something new. We developed relationships along the way that blossomed into lifelong friendships. We rarely got pictures of the fish we caught and the experiences we had since cameras, film and developing all cost money that we needed for fishing, but the ones we did get are priceless.

Today, things have changed dramatically. We live in a world driven by the internet, cell phones, instant access to information and a constant quest for immediate gratification. Anyone can set up their cell phone to plot a course when they go out with a guide (which is absolutely stealing, and completely immoral). You can go on internet message boards, or websites, or social media and find out where the fish are biting. Technical poling skiffs are readily available if you have the means. You don’t have to have personal relationships, adventures or get a guide to learn more, it’s all at your fingertips. I’m not saying all of these things are inherently bad. It’s how we use the new tools at our disposal that makes all the difference.

For me, fishing is not about instant gratification. It has always been about the journey, the whole experience, the adventure. I use nearly every tool that’s out there to learn more about the sport, but I try to do so respectfully and in the right way. I still go to my local fly and tackle shops and talk to the guys and support their business. I try to fish with guides who know their area well and not only find fish but also have a profound respect for the fishery. I hold the locals in high regard everywhere I’ve had the opportunity to travel, and try to honor their customs and support their livelihood. I also love to take off on adventures of my own by respectfully exploring new locations. You don’t need money shots on the internet or in magazines and fish on the wall to remind you that you’re an angler. You know it every time you pull on a worn t-shirt and ragged pair of shorts and get out on the water, and every time you plan a family vacation and your significant other suggests destinations with fishing. You know it because of the way you treat the environment and  because most of the fish you catch swim away. And you know it because you know you will never be the angler you want to be, but every day have the opportunity to get just a little bit closer.

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