Waxing Lyrical

Every once in a while, my editor passes on some freebie to me. Sometimes it’s a lure a manufacturer sent, or some line, and every once in a while I get a book. Last month a packet arrived with a book titled How To Fish. It was published by The Overlook Press and written by a fellow named Chris Yates. A quote on the cover identifies him as “The most revered modern angling writer.”

I felt more than a little stupid, since I really hadn’t read any of his stuff. But I put it on my table to be read “someday” when I couldn’t get out to do anything fun. Well, that turned out to be the day when winds hit at hurricane force, we lost power, and I couldn’t do my Christmas letter or my column. So, I got bored and read a few pages.

Three Schools
In my experience, there are three kinds of outdoor writers. First are those who are technical in nature. They’ll tell you how many wraps to put on that pheasant hackle attached to the #15 hook on a “sunshine wedgie” dry fly. You can learn how to read the stream to present your offering, or how to put new guides on your favorite fishing blank. Since I don’t have the ability to do anything mechanical, use my hands or do any fine work, I rarely glance at the technical writers, and my fishing skill probably shows it!

I am from the school of fishing writers who like to tell stories. Sure, I’ve written a few books about steelhead and salmon, and teaching kids how to fish, but none of it is very technical and I squeezed in as many stories as possible. This style of writing is demeaned by other schools as being “Me and Joe” journalism, lowbrow stuff, with little info and lots of BS! Naturally, I plead guilty. I love hearing stories, sharing stories, and having the experiences that allow me to live the stories!

Mr. Yates, however, is another kind of outdoor writer—a lyricist. His writing is about feelings and words. Lots of words, big ones and little ones, strange and familiar, flower his work. His vocabulary is extensive and he loves to find creative ways to say common things. Much like engraving on a fine old shotgun, the words are pretty to see and his grammar paints a lovely picture. But you’ll have a tough time finding any of his fish. Most of the writing has to do with observations of waterfowl, bubbles, ripples and other environmental distractions.

Simple Pleasures
We have nothing in common in our writing, but I find myself liking the guy just the same. After all, he fishes every time he gets a chance, loves his kids, and doesn’t use fancy equipment. He chums with corn, uses a quill for a bobber, and can sit for hours without catching anything—a born fisherman.

What I found interesting about the book, however, is the stuff he tries to catch. You may picture English fishing as trout and salmon. While he admits to an occasional salmon, he vastly prefers going after rough fish that most American anglers would never consider eating. His favorite species is the carp (he did catch a record specimen) and other species such as roach, tench and barble.  Mr. Yates gets positively poetic when he tells stories of giant perch (maybe three pounds), and he gently releases everything he catches.

Most folks who write about the mystical side of fishing are floating exotic flies that they hand-tied for beautiful, colorful and highly prized fish like brown trout, char, salmon and steelhead. They are on mountain streams with pristine waters and great vistas. Others chase tarpon and weakfish on exotic sand flats in the tropics. But Chris Yates shares the joy he finds hauling up a scaly brown chub from a muddy little backwater, and you just have to get a kick out of that!

His book is very different from any I’ve read; I think you’ll find it an entertaining and comfortable read. Finally, you’ll also get a taste of a fishery that’s quite a bit different from most you’ve tried. Maybe the next time you haul up a trashfish that’s been stealing your bait, you’ll appreciate it a bit more!

Bob Ellsberg’s column, Fishin’, appears monthly in RV Life and rvlife.com.