There’s much to say about what makes fishing the perfect sport and pastime: connecting with nature’s mysteries, disconnecting from manmade worries, the satisfaction of a big fish taking your fly, and the pleasure of cool water, sun on skin, mountain breezes. There’s another element I’ve somehow come to incorporate into fishing: the treasure hunt for things I find along the way. It started with fishing a nearby lake after moving to Plumas County from the San Francisco Bay Area. The lake is part of a PG&E water system, and its level drops every fall, making for fantastic fishing. I was tramping along one gorgeous autumn day and noticed brightly colored objects stuck onto exposed tree stumps. A closer look revealed assorted fishing lures, lost to snags. It was as if I had discovered a lure Easter egg hunt, and I was “hooked” on finding more from then on. Pretty ridiculous — why would a fly fisher want lures? For me, it was just that they were there and beautifully fishlike, shining in the sun: purple, green, red, sparkly, striped, spotted, big, small, old and new looking, a testimony to anglers’ hopes and ultimately, sacrifices to the depths.
From then on, I’ve carried a plastic box in my pack when fishing for collecting lures, having learned quickly that putting them in my fishing vest pockets is not a good idea. I find them caught on stumps, tangled in willows, strung under rocks. I have several hundred, the most popular being the Kastmaster. I’m a sucker for the names of things, and in this, the lures do not disappoint: Speedy Shiner, Mepps, Roostertail, Needlefish, Z-Ray, Krocodile. I’ve also collected nearly as many long trolling flashers, strings of shiny metal and colored beads that make fun Christmas tree decorations. At first, I started hanging the lures and flashers in my dining room windows, which looked really pretty (to me), but was somewhat hazardous. The lures finally came down a few years ago — a good thing, now that a two-year-old granddaughter is running around the house. The lure thing is kind of strange, though; sometimes it seems that they find me. I sat down on an abandoned loggers’ cabin front porch one day while taking a walk, noticed something shiny, and looked down to find a lure in the dirt at my feet. Recently, I scrambled down a steep embankment to fish water being released from a dam and found a small fisherman’s box of 16 assorted lures sitting right on top of a rock. If I’m ever unable to fly fish, I certainly have a well-stocked option to convert to spin fishing. I’ve had a few friends claim that the lures I found had been theirs, but I haven’t been very sympathetic. In addition to lures, I’ve also found spinning rods, a set of horseshoes, lots of golf balls, and someone’s current fishing license, which I put in an envelope and mailed back to them. These are fun things to find. Not so with the occasional rattlesnake, poison oak, or bear. I’ve read of stumbling onto marijuana plants, another no-brainer retreat. And no list would be complete without empty bottles, cans, wrappers, shotgun shells, bait containers, miles of monofilament, rusty hooks, and so on. Recently, I found a set of six empty, capped Corona bottles, neatly lined up along the side of the road at a popular fishing spot. Well-mannered littering? An offer to recyclers? I took it as the latter and put ’em in my car.
Alongside man’s trash and curios, there are the true treasures that nature leaves everywhere. I love seeing the dry, split husks of stonefly nymphs, like little bug skeletons attached to trees and rocks. Garish red snow plants, pushing up from the spring ground like neon signs. A coral snake coiled into rocks on the river bank.
Bleached bone remnants of a kill, hair and bits of deer everywhere. Every gem color and shape of rock in the river. Owl feathers. Crinkly-capped morels, if you’re lucky. Sweet, juicy summer blackberries, suspended in the afternoon heat above a flowing stream. I keep containers in my car for garbage, recycling, gleaning a fruit tree that I might discover, gathering big, dry pine cones for kindling, and of course, blackberries. I’ve yet to find anything with material worth, but it would be fun to find someone’s lost wedding ring and return it to them, or a wad of bills in an old pair of shorts left behind. The possibilities are endless, and that’s what keeps me looking. When I find something, I imagine how it might have been left there and think of who or what came before me. Every time out fishing is an adventure, in more ways than one. And even if I don’t find fish, I almost always find something.
