Stillwater fly-fishing success, or lack thereof, often depends on the mental state as well as the physical well-being of the angler. Mentally, I tend to start slowly on a given day, often distracted by surroundings such as scenery, birds, cloud formations, and just about anything in the marvelous outdoor settings where we fish. If I am fortunate, I gradually slip into what I have come to call a “predator” mode and become very focused on my fishing. Surroundings then take on a lesser role. Working fish, in sufficient numbers to attract my attention, accelerate this transition from observer to participant. It can result in a satisfying day of angling.
However, there is a rare state that transcends the ordinary satisfactions of a day on the water. If you are fortunate, you might enter what I call “The Zone.” “In The Zone” is a term that is often applied to physical activity, and particularly to sports, but it can in reality be applied to most endeavors and undertakings. There are times when we are dialed in and achieve results beyond our wildest dreams, beyond what we normally think our minds and bodies are capable of doing. In my last competitive tennis match,
I was told afterward that I played an entire set with only one unforced error. What was equally intriguing was that I wasn’t aware of that fact and wasn’t aware of much of anything, other than that I had been on the court for over an hour.
I watched a Cal basketball game a few years ago in which a player broke a school record by making seven of nine three-point attempts against a top-20 team. If you think of what has to happen with the athlete’s body and mind to do that, it is extraordinary.
In another game, a second-team player scored 17 points in 14 minutes after a star teammate had been injured. His effort won the game. Afterward, when being interviewed, he said that he had no recollection that his teammate had been injured and had left the game. When interviewed, he said, “It was flowing.”
That is being in The Zone, and you can be in The Zone while fly fishing. I have had the good fortune to experience this phenomenon a few times over the years, and I have seen others in this rare state of grace, a state in which we experience oneness with our environment. What really happens?
The single most important thing as reported by tennis players, quarterbacks, men who have been in combat, baseball players, fly fishers, and others is total concentration. All external distractions are left out of the picture. Reports and recollections from varied sources also say that it is a relaxed concentration. Heightened senses of vision, smell, and intuition seem to be common. Time becomes unimportant. Baseball hitters say that some days, the ball looks like a grapefruit rather than a small white spinning aspirin. Billy Jean King said that for her, on rare days, “the tennis ball appears as big as a softball.” Fly fishers tell of seeing size 18 midges on the water at 60 feet. For some inexplicable reason, they know where the fish are in a lake, what they are doing, and in which direction they will move. You pick a fly that is sitting among 90 other flies and “know” that it’s the “one,” look out on an acre of water, and discern within a foot where a fish is lying beneath a rippled surface. You know which shoreline log a fish is under or which indentation in a shoreline will hold a bass.
Other aspects of fly-fishing skills seem to maximize when you are in The Zone. Casting becomes effortless — your loops are tight and penetrate the wind with ease. Fly and leader turn over in a true path. You can turn on a dime and change a cast’s direction in a flash. Your eyes see a break in the water’s surface that should have no apparent meaning, yet you are sure that it signals a fish underneath coming from the left or right, and you know how much to lead it. An angler can tell that a fish has made a pass at his or her fly without it striking the hook. The subtle change in water resistance imparted to the fly on the retrieve made by a charging fish can be felt by one with a heightened state of awareness.
I was on a Livermore Fly Fishers club outing at Indian Valley Reservoir in early April about a decade ago, before the great drought cycle began. It was apparent that I was in “The Zone.” I had caught four bass over three pounds in about as many casts. I heard something behind me and just let my back cast go over my right shoulder toward the direction of the sound. My fishing partner said that the green frog popper, given to me by the famous Texas fly tyer Jimmy Nix, landed in the middle of a three-foot opening in the flooded shoreline manzanita. It was engulfed by another large bass as it hit the water. My angling companion quit fishing, popped a beer, and just watched for the next hour. Sadly, I can’t report that this has happened since.
It is important to capitalize on this phenomenon if you can recognize that it is happening. Forget about changing anything that you are doing, and don’t allow yourself to be distracted in any way. That dinner party at eight will have to wait. Don’t be tempted to drive immediately to the nearest casino. My tennis coach said, “It doesn’t often last more than 30 or 40 minutes. Be prepared when it happens.” Needless to say, have a second rigged rod, extra leaders, tippet, and flies close by. And above all . . . get that frog-colored popper back in the water.
Be humble and grateful and do not boast of your prowess too much, for there are going to be times when it’s others around you for whom “it’s flowing,” not you. And of course, there will be times — many more times — when at best, it’s the ordinary satisfactions of fly fishing that are all that you can expect. But the heightened awareness of being in “The Zone” is only an extreme version of the mental and physical preparation that can make those satisfactions more enjoyable.
It helps to feel good. Obvious things like a good night’s rest, absence from ailments such as colds or the flu, not celebrating too much the night before, and having my body properly prepared come to bear. As I write, I’m preparing for five straight days of fly fishing for bass at Lake Picachos in the Sierra Madre mountains east of Mazatlán, Mexico and will return after that to the beginnings of the f lyrod bass season on West Slope Sierra and Coast Range lakes.
In preparing, I try my best to avoid germ factories, which in my community means grandchildren and grandparents, and I have put my arthritic body in as good as possible physical shape. How? Swimming, winter diet, getting outdoors as much as possible so my respiratory system is used to cold, wind, sunlight, and rain, and hitting the weights. All this helps in avoiding wintertime colds, which don’t travel well. Now that I qualify as a “senior,” it is necessary for me to do this all year long in order to keep my muscles toned so I can cast well for long periods of time. I pick it up a notch in preparing for a long-awaited trip where I will be fishing every day, starting the extra preparation three months in advance. I use light weights and go through reps that tone my casting arm, double-haul arm, and core muscles, being careful to increase the reps gradually without risking a muscle tear or chronic injury than can raise havoc with a trip of a lifetime.
Mental preparation is crucial, as well. I avoid procrastination so there isn’t much on my plate and do everything possible in advance so I can depart for my destination with things in good order. I don’t need a surprise the day before I leave. It’s time to go back through my notes and review what was encountered on previous trips. In an early phone call with my fishing partner, we reviewed what we used last year in the way of rods, lines, and flies before we started tying in earnest for this trip. Anticipation before any trip is part of the fun, and we usually take far more with us than we will ever need, remembering that there are no tackle stores in the Sierra Madre. We also called friends who have been there and picked their brains. This process is much the same that we do when traveling domestically.
And you need to remain on the ball mentally throughout the trip. It is said in business and academic circles that prior planning prevents poor performance. Once you get to any destination, you need to prepare for that first day on the water. One thing that I have learned to do is go through my fly boxes and review in my mind what I have and where it is located. Use a checklist before leaving and again before getting in a boat. This gets even more important as you grow older!
It’s also important to have a game plan. Successful college and NFL football coaches preplan their first 20 or so plays. Try that with a small “game-day” fly box selection. Load it with five flies that your instincts, knowledge, and experience tell you to use. It will save you from rummaging through those newly organized boxes, where you can’t find anything when excitement hits. I can tell you from experience that if you pull or kick into a bay where there are thirty egrets and an equal number of black-crowned night-herons squawking and hopping about on the bank and in the water, you will immediately forget where your minnow patterns are. I also try to prethink my actual fishing plan. I might start looking for April bass at New Melones on the inside, south side of west-facing points, where a southern sun will warm the waters a bit faster. A second option would be the back of those same coves.
Knowing your mental and physical limits helps, too. I am a great believer in preparing for and fishing during “prime time.” A long day on the water for hours on end is difficult for me. More and more, it’s the midday sun that wipes me out. I try to focus my efforts on the hours when I have experienced good fishing in the past. It may mean taking several breaks, but especially a noonday respite.
In Mexico two years ago, we were fishing a newly opened lake that early reports had suggested was one of the best in the world for top-water fly-rod bass fishing. We began our day at first light, rising an hour earlier. Our boats always returned to camp so we could take lunch by noon.
There was an hour break for the meal, and then it was back to the boats. We were fishing with a group of young touring bass pros from all over the country who couldn’t believe that my partner and I wanted a long siesta that took away from precious fishing time. Even Pedro, our young Mexican guide, was dismayed. He initially thought we were denigrating him by not wanting to return to the water at 1:00 p.m. With Pedro’s insecurity reassured, we got our siesta, fine-tuned our equipment from a first morning’s mess, took a shower, and were prepared for a hellacious top-water bite as low light arrived in a back cove where roving pods of bass had corralled schools of threadfin shad.
Well-rested and sharp, we were able to experience a special angling phenomenon that doesn’t happen often. Not only that, we were rested for our next four days of fishing and continued our three-hour lunch and siesta breaks.
It helped that we flew in a day early, got in an afternoon swim at our hotel’s beachside pool, and enjoyed a nice seafood meal and margaritas in an interesting restaurant before turning in. Our fellow travelers had woken up at 3:00 a.m., departed for Mexico at 6:00, made a plane change in Phoenix, and had gone through a tedious Mexican customs inspection before being picked up for the long, bouncy ride to the lake. We rose late, had a nice buffet breakfast at beachside, and were ready for fishing when our van arrived at our destination.
It wasn’t being in “The Zone,” it wasn’t the sort of peak experience that is so rare, but it was a good trip and a satisfying one because mentally and physically, we were prepared to enjoy and make the most of it.
