Trying to avoid semi-stir craziness in my parent's mountain home, I've decided to note some of the catchy lines of John Gierach's Sex, Death, and Fly-Fishing.
"[David] Quammen points out that bamboo trees (from which fly rods are made) do it his way [referring to having sex once and dying], and that salmon (on which fly rods are used) do it this way, too. I think that's interesting. Could there be some wild, metaphysical connection that makes fly-fishing incredibly sexy? I sincerely hope so."
"I don't know exactly what fly-fishing teaches us, but I think it's something we need to know."
"In a solitary sport, there's a very real sense in which your colleagues are also your worst enemies. In many places a kind of uneasy truce now exists and, although hostilities are seldom open, certain guerrilla tactics are sometimes employed."
"For another, I like being reminded that as the gravel company meandered across this piece of land, it left behind it holes in the ground that naturally filled with ground water, and, in time, turned wild. Just as naturally, some people put fish here, and then, later, other people came to catch them out. This is the kind of long-term industrial pollution I can live with."
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