On Chrome & Corona

The fishing that I do is a selfish act – never more so than during a pandemic. 

I don’t fish for food, although I’m confident I could if it comes to that. The fish that I catch and release are essentially victims of torture. Regardless if you believe that fish can feel pain, there’s really no other word describe the practice of removing a living creature from its natural habitat by force.

I justify my selfishness by saying it brings me closer to God’s creation, which it does. I feel connected to something larger than myself when a fish chooses to inhale a fly that I tied and then presented. But a less selfish man might find a similar connection by taking a picture or simply sitting still and observing God’s handiwork. One of my heroes, Aldo Leopold, did just that – and he fished for food.

I also justify my selfishness by saying it brings me peace and improves my mental health. Thoreau was right when he said: “Many men go fishing their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” I’ve known for a long time that I’m not after fish, if only because my best friend, and wife for 34 years, will insist that I go fishing on those occasions when my trips to the river are so scarce that my inner Mr. Hyde emerges. The river restores me.

I used to quote another hero, former Michigan Supreme Court Justice turned writer, John Voelker, who (under the pen name Robert Traver) wrote the eloquent Testament of aFisherman and said he fished “not because it was terribly important, but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant and not nearly so much fun.”

That conceit doesn’t hold up in the age of Covid-19. As I fish in these times others risk their lives keeping their colleagues, friends and total strangers alive. I’ve never felt as useless as I fish safely – either alone or at a distance from good friends who keep me from succumbing to the anxiety. So I turn to another hero, Yvon Chouinard, for wisdom, solace and justification. If more businesses were run like Yvon runs Patagonia then we probably wouldn’t be in this mess and our planet would be much healthier. In 2012, Yvon accepted the Inamori Ethics Prize from Case Western University and used it as a platform to articulate his determination to run a company that did no harm to the planet. He lashed out at the culture of consumerism fueled by companies inspired only by the desire to make more profits by selling more products. And he acknowledged his own hypocrisy embodied by his own passion for rock climbing and fly fishing. He conceded that the only way he wasn’t going to climb aboard a green-house gas emitting jet in a few days to fly off to a remote river in Russia and chase steelhead was if someone punched him in the face and knocked him out.

Justifying my selfishness by pointing to Yvon’s is pretty lame. It’s amazing the lengths an addicted steelheader will go to justify what he does – and what he doesn’t do. But as I prepare for my next river visit, I’m thinking a lot about a new set of heroes. And I need to figure out ways that I can help them through this crisis, so that someday very soon they too can find solace in their own selfish, restorative ways.