What does it mean to be a fisherman?
Many of us identify as fishermen or women. We tell all those around us (whether they ask or not) that we are fishermen. Those around us tell others the same, and eventually, we are known as the fishermen in our circle of friends and family. I’m sure that for many of you, your identity is closely tied to fishing.
I am even tempted to answer the dreaded “What do you do?” question with “fish” rather than what I do for a living.
I got to wondering who a fisherman is and what makes the fisherman’s lifestyle unique. When we tell someone we are a fisherman, what does this reveal about who we are? What does it mean to be a fisherman or woman?
Well, to start, we all wish that fishing for a living were possible. Since this is rare, the next best thing is to find a career closely related to fishing or one that gives you enough time off to fish. Our jobs are simply a means to fund our fishing trips and seem to get in the way more often than not.
We are a secretive group that likes to keep to ourselves. Fishermen form a tight-knit group of friends and are hesitant to admit to others where they are fishing, regardless of who it is. The vagueness often used when discussing fishing can come across as rude to non-anglers, but it is a common practice accepted within the fishing community. That said, we are quick to grab our camera and share our fish photos with anyone remotely interested.
We often feel out of place in many social settings, but when surrounded by other fishermen, we have no trouble making connections and keeping the conversations going deep into the night.
Our best conversations occur around the campfire after a long day of fishing or perhaps on the way to or from a fishing trip. The discussions revolve around the next fishing trip, a new fly pattern, fish caught, fish lost, hatches, and how jobs and spouses seem to get in the way of it all.
We believe a good day of fishing is a result of our own doing, giving credit to our skill and knowledge. While a poor day of fishing is because the river was too high, the weather too sunny, the fish not biting, or any other external circumstance easy to blame.
We are eternally optimistic, believing that something good is going to transpire no matter how many times the river proves us wrong. We believe there is always a bigger fish to catch, a better hatch to come, and better weather in the forecast. It keeps us going and looking forward to the next day on the water, always living with something to look forward to.
As fishermen, we understand the importance of patience, doing things for the sake of doing them, and being in the right place at the right time. We are early risers, innocent liars, and problem solvers.
Our vehicles have many miles, a few scratches and dents, and a thing or two that don’t function quite right. A long drive is nothing to us, and our hearts beat faster with excitement as the road turns to dirt.
We’re usually underslept after chasing the evening hatch, sunburnt from many days outside, and dehydrated from forgetting to drink water through it all. A gas station sandwich and a bag of trail mix will keep us going for a 12-hour day on the river.
The worries that keep us up at night may include diminishing insect hatches, increased angler pressure, winter snowpack, loss of public land, and how our spouse will feel about the new fly rod you haven’t yet told her about.
Our spouses know to add an hour or two from the time we say we will be home, listen to our exaggerated stories, and look at our many fish photos. The spouses who stay around either enjoy fishing themselves or learn to appreciate the time apart as your off on another fishing trip.
Our vacations revolve around what is hatching and where the best fishing is. Hell, everything in our life is filtered through the lens of fishing. Where we call home, our careers, vehicles, friends, spouses, and everything in between. We consistently ask ourselves how a choice will affect the amount of time we have to go fishing. Will this choice allow me to fish more, or screw it all up?
We each sacrifice something to live the fisherman’s lifestyle. It may be time with family, financial security, a healthy sleep schedule, a consistent diet and exercise routine, advancing in our career, social status, or perhaps a little bit of it all and more. Whatever it is, a day of fishing makes it all feel worthwhile.
Many outside of the fishing community don’t understand the lifestyle. They may look down on it, scoff at it, or be just confused by it. That’s fine with us, as it means fewer people in our fishing spots.
At the end of the day, what makes us fishermen is simple: we fish.
We fish alone and with friends. In shining sun or pouring rain. High in the Rockies and down at sea level.
We fish in good moods and bad, when life is falling apart or working in our favor, and whether the fish are biting or not—we fish.
It’s part of who we are and where we feel at home. Everything makes sense when we’re on the water, and we feel lost when we go too long without it.
When we reach our last day on this earth, I think we’ll know—it was a good way to spend a life, after all, to be a fisherman.
2 thoughts on “To Be A Fisherman”
This was a fantastic read. I have a trip coming up in 3 weeks and looking forward to meeting Nick in person. Fly Fishing brings you to amazing placing and you meet amazing people.
Thanks Dan! I am excited for your trip and to meet you in person. As always, thanks for reading.
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