| Matt Johnson Outdoors Fishing Imitates Art |
| Matt Johnson Outdoors |
By: Lief C. Larson
In the Hemingway family, fishing
was a religion. The water was
where they went to become
closer to their God, and faith was
that the right fly or lure would
precipitate the eventuality of the
bite. Even during the trials and
tribulations of life away from the
water, Hemingway’s eldest son
Jack recounted how reality and dream become one when
pondering fishing. “I now have trouble remembering whether
some of those rivers were real or just fantasies that were
simply morbid creations of my imagination.”
Having grown up reading nearly every word ever written by
Ernest Hemingway on the subject of fishing, I felt enlightened
enough to write an article on the subject of how fishing
imitates art. To me there is no better representation of this
than the writings of Hemingway.
Hemingway was the master of the simplistic writing style. He
kept his sentences short and sweet. He got right to the point.
To describe a scene he would state the necessary, but he
never over described the obvious. Writing and fishing were
both arts of which he was a skilled artisan. One of my favorite
passages was in Big Two-Hearted River: Part II:
My point is that Hemingway had an art for putting his
experiences of fishing into words. Even the characters he
built, one would have to assume were constructed upon
lasting memories from his past fishing experiences and
exploits. This art of fishing that Hemingway could convey to
readers was build upon another, and more powerful art:
observation.
The art of observation is arguably the most important
component to enjoying, and being more successful at,
fishing. Unfortunately, many of us were introduced to fishing
by men whose objective it was to catch fish. Maybe your
experience was like mine? My uncle taught me to fish in its
most basic sense. We would load up our hooks with bait.
Wait for something to bite. Take the fish home. Kill them.
Clean them. Eat them.
As I’ve grown older though, I’ve realized that fishing could be
so much more enjoyable by sharpening my powers of
observation. For me, fishing is no longer about catching fish,
but the process that it entails to be rewarded with the bite.
Like Hemingway, I like to describe to myself all that I see
around me. I consider these small notations a part of the
bigger picture.
Hemingway at times was keen on waiting to wet his line until
he has painted a mental portrait of his surroundings. Here is
a good example passage from The Best Rainbow Trout
Fishing:
What would you take away from this? At face value it looks
like a grasshopper has just been eaten off the surface of the
water by a trout. Hemingway, however, has equated this
event into an opportunity to test both McGinty and Royal
Coachman flies in the drift. Not only was he making the
observation that the trout were going for insects instead of the
normal river minnow type fare, but he went a step further and
decided to see if other types of insects might work? (The
McGinty is a fly that looks like a yellow jacket). Here is the
result of his observation and hypothesis:
Even after getting the fish on, the power of observation
continued. Hemingway later noted that, “the smaller flies get
more strikes but are too small to hold the really big fish.” His
insinuated recommendation is that for the larger fish, be
prepared with a larger hook.
Yet another observation from Hemmingway that same day is
that fish jumps are intentional to become dislodged from the
hook. “His leaps are not mere flops, either, but actual jumps
out of and parallel with the water of from a foot to five feet,” he
said. If you’re one who thinks a fish jumping five feet out of
the water seems very improbable here in Minnesota,
Hemingway has an observation for you too. “If you don’t
believe it tie onto one in fast water and try and force him. . .
Maybe if he is a five-pounder he will throw me down and only
jump four feet eleven inches.”
Even among species of fish, the art of observation can be
likened to the difference between post-modern and cubism.
Although different type of fish may share the same environs,
there are relative observations waiting to be made. “Rainbow
trout fishing is as different from brook (trout) fishing as prize
fishing is from boxing,” noted Hemingway. “The rainbow is
called Salmo iridescens by those mysterious people who
name the fish we catch.”
In conclusion, if it’s fish you want, you need to stop thinking
about the fish. Think about the art of observation. See your
surroundings and incorporate them into your adventure. If
you don’t know the Latin or scientific name for fish, don’t feel
ashamed. When I was at the Musée du Louvre in Paris I didn’
t know many of the artists, but I sure did like the art.
In the Hemingway family, fishing
was a religion. The water was
where they went to become
closer to their God, and faith was
that the right fly or lure would
precipitate the eventuality of the
bite. Even during the trials and
tribulations of life away from the
water, Hemingway’s eldest son
Jack recounted how reality and dream become one when
pondering fishing. “I now have trouble remembering whether
some of those rivers were real or just fantasies that were
simply morbid creations of my imagination.”
Having grown up reading nearly every word ever written by
Ernest Hemingway on the subject of fishing, I felt enlightened
enough to write an article on the subject of how fishing
imitates art. To me there is no better representation of this
than the writings of Hemingway.
Hemingway was the master of the simplistic writing style. He
kept his sentences short and sweet. He got right to the point.
To describe a scene he would state the necessary, but he
never over described the obvious. Writing and fishing were
both arts of which he was a skilled artisan. One of my favorite
passages was in Big Two-Hearted River: Part II:
My point is that Hemingway had an art for putting his
experiences of fishing into words. Even the characters he
built, one would have to assume were constructed upon
lasting memories from his past fishing experiences and
exploits. This art of fishing that Hemingway could convey to
readers was build upon another, and more powerful art:
observation.
The art of observation is arguably the most important
component to enjoying, and being more successful at,
fishing. Unfortunately, many of us were introduced to fishing
by men whose objective it was to catch fish. Maybe your
experience was like mine? My uncle taught me to fish in its
most basic sense. We would load up our hooks with bait.
Wait for something to bite. Take the fish home. Kill them.
Clean them. Eat them.
As I’ve grown older though, I’ve realized that fishing could be
so much more enjoyable by sharpening my powers of
observation. For me, fishing is no longer about catching fish,
but the process that it entails to be rewarded with the bite.
Like Hemingway, I like to describe to myself all that I see
around me. I consider these small notations a part of the
bigger picture.
Hemingway at times was keen on waiting to wet his line until
he has painted a mental portrait of his surroundings. Here is
a good example passage from The Best Rainbow Trout
Fishing:
What would you take away from this? At face value it looks
like a grasshopper has just been eaten off the surface of the
water by a trout. Hemingway, however, has equated this
event into an opportunity to test both McGinty and Royal
Coachman flies in the drift. Not only was he making the
observation that the trout were going for insects instead of the
normal river minnow type fare, but he went a step further and
decided to see if other types of insects might work? (The
McGinty is a fly that looks like a yellow jacket). Here is the
result of his observation and hypothesis:
Even after getting the fish on, the power of observation
continued. Hemingway later noted that, “the smaller flies get
more strikes but are too small to hold the really big fish.” His
insinuated recommendation is that for the larger fish, be
prepared with a larger hook.
Yet another observation from Hemmingway that same day is
that fish jumps are intentional to become dislodged from the
hook. “His leaps are not mere flops, either, but actual jumps
out of and parallel with the water of from a foot to five feet,” he
said. If you’re one who thinks a fish jumping five feet out of
the water seems very improbable here in Minnesota,
Hemingway has an observation for you too. “If you don’t
believe it tie onto one in fast water and try and force him. . .
Maybe if he is a five-pounder he will throw me down and only
jump four feet eleven inches.”
Even among species of fish, the art of observation can be
likened to the difference between post-modern and cubism.
Although different type of fish may share the same environs,
there are relative observations waiting to be made. “Rainbow
trout fishing is as different from brook (trout) fishing as prize
fishing is from boxing,” noted Hemingway. “The rainbow is
called Salmo iridescens by those mysterious people who
name the fish we catch.”
In conclusion, if it’s fish you want, you need to stop thinking
about the fish. Think about the art of observation. See your
surroundings and incorporate them into your adventure. If
you don’t know the Latin or scientific name for fish, don’t feel
ashamed. When I was at the Musée du Louvre in Paris I didn’
t know many of the artists, but I sure did like the art.
“He hung unsteadily in the current, then settled to the bottom
beside a stone. Nick reached down his hand to touch him, his
arm to the elbow under water. The trout was steady in the
moving stream, resting on the gravel, beside a stone. As Nick’
s fingers touch him, touched his smooth, cool, underwater
feeling he was gone, gone in a shadow across the bottom of
the stream.”
beside a stone. Nick reached down his hand to touch him, his
arm to the elbow under water. The trout was steady in the
moving stream, resting on the gravel, beside a stone. As Nick’
s fingers touch him, touched his smooth, cool, underwater
feeling he was gone, gone in a shadow across the bottom of
the stream.”
“A high pine covered bluff that rises steep up out of the
shadows. A short sand slope down to the river and a quick
elbow turn with a little flood wood jammed in the bend and then
a pool. . . This is the setting . . . The hopper floats spraddle
legged on the water of the pool an instant, an eddy catches him
and then there is a yard long flash of flame, and a trout as long
as your forearm has shot into the air and the hopper has
disappeared.”
shadows. A short sand slope down to the river and a quick
elbow turn with a little flood wood jammed in the bend and then
a pool. . . This is the setting . . . The hopper floats spraddle
legged on the water of the pool an instant, an eddy catches him
and then there is a yard long flash of flame, and a trout as long
as your forearm has shot into the air and the hopper has
disappeared.”
the core of the reel showed.”the core of the reel showed.”
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