“I come into the peace of wild things/ who do not tax their lives with forethought/ of grief. I come into the presence of still water/ And I feel above me the day-blind stars/ waiting with their light. For a time/ I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
When I step down into the lucid, glimmering waters of a cold spring-fed trout stream, I leave the world behind. It’s just me, my fly and rod, the sound of gurgling, purling water, the hidden trout, and a sun-bathed tapestry of glorious foliage overhanging the water’s glassy surface. I have made my escape.
The fly fisherman must find a rhythm—like the poet or musician. Fly fishing reverses the expected order: Rather than the weight of the lure propelling the fly line (like when you use a spin caster), it’s the weight of the line that propels the tiny bit of feather and thread—the fly—at the line’s end, no heavier than a cobweb, forward onto the water. This requires a backward and forward casting motion that creates the great sweeping arc of line so distinctive of fly fishing. But to get this right, you must find a rhythm, like the poet—or like the magician, who conjures a fish from the water. If you break the beat, your line tangles and the flight of your fly comes crashing down.
After an experience like this, you leave the stream refreshed, invigorated, calmed.
A Bevy of Benefits
I am not the first to notice the calming effect of fly fishing. Many have written about and studied the relaxation effect of fly fishing. Stress raises our adrenaline levels and activates the fight-or-flight response. This increases heart rate and blood pressure. A spike in cortisol also occurs. The relaxation response is the reverse of this process, a state of deep rest that lowers blood pressure, heart rate, and cortisol levels.Therapeutic Applications
All this data has been used to help combat veterans recover from traumatic experiences. Researchers at the University of Southern Maine, the University of Utah, and the Veterans Administration in Salt Lake City found that participants in a study had a notable decrease in stress and post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms after enjoying a fly fishing retreat.This combination of elements has consistently helped veterans overcome PTSD, anxiety, depression, isolation, and problems integrating back into society. In addition to PTSD from traumatic experiences, Woodward explained that veterans returning from deployment often experience isolation because they’ve left behind their cohort of comrades in the service, and the community they knew back home has moved on during their absence. Some veterans feel separate from society, and that their life is on permanent pause, which can lead to despair and even suicidal ideation.
Fly fishing allows the healing influence of nature, community, and purpose to soothe these warriors’ wounds. Woodward believes the importance of the outdoors is “in our DNA. Human beings have been outdoors since the dawn of our existence. ... [When we’re outdoors,] the brain sort of wakes up.”
Moreover, the relaxing effect of the outdoors can help people lower their guard enough to become emotionally vulnerable enough to build true relationships. The fly fishing, fly tying, and rod-building curriculum of Project Healing Waters creates purpose and shared endeavors for veterans. The intense focus and skill acquisition that fly fishing requires helps participants in the program build self-efficacy and aids in “turning down the volume on external stimuli,” as Woodward put it.
Woodward told The Epoch Times, “For us, it’s camaraderie, curriculum, and the out-of-doors, and you create this three-pillar process that usually results in improved health and well-being for our nation’s heroes.”
Veterans receive less attention now that U.S. troops have withdrawn from direct conflict, but there’s still a big need for programs to support these heroes. “The war may be over, but a lot of the healing is only just beginning,” he said.
One participant in the program, disabled veteran Mikael Madsen, said of the experience: “This journey has been a transformative one for me. ... The process of crafting a bamboo rod, the tranquility of fly fishing, and the victories in each catch are my own forms of therapy, healing me in ways traditional medicine couldn’t.”
The program has helped 25,000 veterans like Madsen since 2010.
Of course, combat isn’t the only kind of stress that fly fishing helps heal. It seems that any human sorrow can, in the right circumstances, be alleviated by fishing. In his famous semi-autobiographical story “A River Runs Through It,” writer Norman Mclean narrated how fishing became his solace in the loneliness of old age and the memory of past losses.
“Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them. Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn’t ... I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”
I know the kind of quiet that steals over you when fishing. My favorite moment is after bringing in the fish and removing the hook. I rarely keep the trout. Instead, I gently lower it back into the water in the loose cage of my fingers. Tired from the fight, the trout rests there a while, fins gently waving, gills opening and closing. I hold this wild thing in my hands and it no longer struggles. It rests and I rest.
I’ve captured a piece of the ancient stream, as elusive as a river spirit, and for a few moments that slip by as swift as the water, it belongs to me. Then it’s gone, darting from my fingertips. It is again one with the water. I experience the restorative tranquility of order. This is the emotional and psychological power of fly fishing at work.
